Imagine moth wings fluttering inside her eyelids, restless tapping on clear pane knocking to get out.

Imagine dipping down like a blue jay swooping above a blackberry briar.

No thorn could touch you.

Imagine her memories pulling out some vital root displacing her voice on a stage with no Mic.

She sits alone staring at mountains wondering how to close the distance between herself and freedom.

Dying to get out, an inexplicable letter she can't understand written by a stranger living within.

Her dreams bloom lotus petals in a smile she almost remembers.

Something dire in the air turns birdsong electric.

Steady barking drives her stranger to forceful writing.

His hand in her bones cascade her cells over Niagara Falls.

Her thoughts thorn ivy, she pulls misery from the roots and discovers a hidden utopia only the stranger knows how to pen.

Her voice travels in silence driving through hard blizzard highways searching for a Mic.

She can taste his words like frozen fog hanging from clusters of pine.

Her restless moth scatters out of her eyelids knowing where the greater light is located.

Etheric tingling intrigues her flight, she rises higher, every breath a drum beat invoking higher understanding.

Her sense of freedom expands when starlight hits her wings.

Ecstasy swims her veins, the mysterious letter sinking further in.

She can see the stranger scribbling, his face lit up, a remembered smile frees the entire universe, his words produce a funnel web unlocking her voice into rainbow silk elimanating her search for a Mic.

Her silk stretches through eternity.

No thorn can touch her.