Another page turned
Obscuring its influence
With no greater exposure
Of what would then proceed

It's not what I awaited
And certainly never hoped

Vagueness would belief resemble so much now
What it was I had expected

Whose obscurity I do recall
As being an indication It wasn't any greater
Than a thought -
         Replete
         Momentary
         
Replicant
         
Repetitious
         Becoming then miasma

With all the substance of shadow

            A heart shaped umbra

Is as passed as I
And it looks a lot like reality

Is that your point?

(So that's the point)