A ghosting

Two worlds, two existences.

Call it a blur, though it’s more of a ghosting.
Not “seeing things that aren’t there” for they are.

As if time, just here, split from its measure.
A moment but a fraction ago, dares to recur.

But it’s more of a view. Two scenes badly merged.
Voices un-slurred, speed of light and sound diverge.

So similar as to be identical, two worlds, two existences.
Watch intently for the inexplicable, paths divide imperceptibly, miss-able

You see how? Forget about time and un-furrow that brow. 
Direct your efforts to bridge, jump ship, release, or infer.

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