October 8, 2012


A bell chimes.  A glass breaks.  A flower dies.  A lightning bolt strikes
Wooded area that surrounds is full of sounds; chirping, slithering, rustling, growling

Restless, deep within the forest of trees; deep within logs of decay
Deep within the novelty of life’s breathless air

Movement curbs the silence
This movement wakens each step, yet cajoles these limbs, shakes these nerves to act
Where, where to take that step
Into a night filled with secrets, or out into the light of dense fog

Footfalls of progressive energy
Footfalls of strength that lacks luster of sunlight

Away, into the ocean
Away, into the dark waters of salt and foam
Away, into tastes of salt upon lips, skin, eyes that seep the same salty tears
Away, stepping into the sand

Testing, no not testing, because one knows where it leads
Beckoning, yes, beckoning forward to drift

Moonlight drifts across water
 Waiting water touched with blue, cold, light
to sleep, yes, that chance
 sleep will come

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