Superposition

wafting to see a panoramic screen,
is like a Man, who with his child on knee,
tastes to smell an Incandescent dream,
of the space that fate now feigns to feed. 

a tawny needle, yet enclosed,
in view of purpose Clasped in thread,
seldom is mindful of the renown 
their unity gives those Who wed.

here and now and far between,
as beached upon the Isle of hope,
temps me to test the vagary:
tense and mirth, belied as "nope".

could light and darkness Me supplant,
fate, grant to me present's recant.