anon alois
These subtle roads of sleep and wake I wander, endlessly between — trapped, anchored by sticky, silken threads — past, touching present, touching future; and yet — adrift, afloat, alight on the sailing barges of imagination, until shadows, the eclipse of all things
fall and blend in darkness upon darkness among the tangled, sopping grasses of tide, whispering the sum of sun and moon and stars. I ride beneath, slow, drifting spin, watching the sea curl and curve without me, and I am suddenly
seen, whole and shining beside the sacred pool; stolen away, a single breath, caught forever within these
(unforgotten, unforgettable)
speckled, glowing drifts — butterfly wings, beating
the first drum of an unlonely heart
Special thanks to Hazel Wee, whose prompt from this poem inspired me: