If illusion were real

From the darkness arises light.
Is she standing there on the
Roof of that under-construction
Apartment? Or is she there
Atop the attic in that giant
Of a building, which has
Dwarfed all others in the
Vicinity? Or is she an illusion
That the diffused light
Of the morn has created?

Time questions existence ...
Sincerity of a relationship.

Time unearths new vistas
In the unexplored equation
Between Man and his mate.

What if Man looks at the
Morning sky to find the
Face of his mate shining
Like a polestar?

Dawn is just breaking ...
Illusion will be shredded
By the piercing light of the sun.
The polestar will disappear.
Only the memory of the pale
Morning light, the shining face
And the embalming breeze
Will freshen you
In a dull damp day.