Singular Inversion

Who will be the sky/ground? 
When the tides of dream upend
Overflowing dams?

Will the shift be felt? 
Will the change be obvious? 
When wave wafts away? 

When we stride on air
And gravity repels us
Yet story persists 

This narrative sense
How could one give it away? 
Or choose not to bloom? 

Does life have such worth
That it eclipses beauty
When beauty is felt? 

Meaning intrinsic
Would you bet your soul on this? 
What choice will you have? 

We stride to table 
Not understanding the stakes
With dying breath bet

So the tables turn
So the hourglass is flipped
So stitch is undone

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