Invisible.
Eyes, searching for proof, grasp onto instinct
because all sense-
and senses-
have failed.
Where is She?
In a wisp of air, a lock of hair?
or encased in the unwritten question mark
emblazoned as her signature...
her cold breathing manipulating
the sky's inky cover,
into a D-
for me-
script and secretly placed-
for me?
dear sanity
donna?
are you there?
A miracle it was,
evident it was the presence still evicted
and reincarnated.
She is not a vase full of voices,
She is not alone...
She
runs far to her home
sweet and tender
cast across ten fields of conquest and fantasy.
She is a translucent stream twisting
Gently past gravity's rule, into the air
and through downstair's rusted piping..
She never was stuck
and she won't be now
flow on past here and onward
into the sweet caress of your wish
and i will watch the sky in search of gentler mourning-
and calmer winds to ride. |