Castles in the sand, or
Castles in the sky.

There's a whisper of tentative potentials
wafting thru the air like mill smoke.

It keeps us withered and wondering,
starstruck, mutilated in spirit & empowered
in mind.

We chant, "I don't mind. Terror
is an error but no error stems from
a terrified wolf," simply reacting
to the terrain like a Ghost
losing the ghost of its mind
in these very same whispers
as they morph into a melody,
a whistle, a beautiful problem
ready to be solved.

(ready to be solvent.)