Indelicate is sight.

Imperfect in reality,

And rugged with the past.

The distance of time,

Cool with memories,

Is tattooed on our skin,

And it's weathered in tears.

Impure is the now

As tainted by the past,

But where is the truth?

Beyond the now

Stands a place cloaked in white.

Free of fault, 

And full of possibility.

This bright infinity,

It cuts through the smog.

Future brings hope in chaos.