In a dream,
a wispy woman
wafts down to me
and whispers quietly,
"window, or mirror?"
repeatedly until it echoed
as a haunting melody
of indecipherable melancholy.
I awoke as the sun suggested.
Awaiting the play of penitence
to present itself
as the heat of a distant star
masqueraded behind skies
gessoed grey.
The ethereal muse still perched
behind conscious mind,
eyes searching for a tangible answer
to reply, but found nothing,
save my reflection in the half light
and small slivers of outside
through Venetian blinds.
Dec. 16, 2016
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 3:53 PM UTC
In a dream,
a wispy woman
wafts down to me
and whispers quietly,
"window, or mirror?"
repeatedly until it echoed
as a haunting melody
of indecipherable melancholy.
I awoke as the sun suggested.
Awaiting the play of penitence
to present itself
as the heat of a distant star
masqueraded behind skies
gessoed grey.
The ethereal muse still perched
behind conscious mind,
eyes searching for a tangible answer
to reply, but found nothing,
save my reflection in the half light
and small slivers of outside
through Venetian blinds.
Dec. 16, 2016
