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Living; Habitual Existence

There are moments
We seek and believe to be true.
Unlike our present,
They are fleeting; they bare no name.

Desire seeks them.

Questing for conquest
My heart follows,
In-tune with curiosity;
Yet, far removed from sanity.

These moments,
Escape Reality’s reach.

They are fiction, fairy-tales we speak of.

Imagination at its finest deceives me.
I am not ‘us.’
I am not ‘we.’
I am a bystander.

I am the character,
Active participant in a cameo,
Contrasting wealth and privilege.
I can only be ‘me.’
A subsidized existence.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Editing stage: 


Great write here, I wouldn't want to change it, it reached me with solid good sensibility, I enjoyed the style, meter, verbiage & content... It's probably one that could provide a variety of interpretations each time it was read... I think that's a good thing.


My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

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