leave only healing within your wake
like a trail of wildflowers and stardust
twinkling and blooming upon the ground
that meets your gentle tread

blue bonnet flames in a sea of scorched terrain
the sun felt extra harsh as it touched my skin today
and my thoughts feel quite unsettling
not knowing what's true from my imagining
from where do i learn the art of trance?
i'm all ears, trust me. i'm listening

where lies the magic?
masquerading around like a poetess
dancing in the face of tragic mishaps
misshapen by extraterrestrial beckons
away from the melancholy of
rain-soaked trails

reconciling. constant. duress.
letting go of lunar divinations of one
and all perturbations using what comes
from the air unseen;
like the supposed
facets of my birthstone:
the clear blue aquamarine

another morning too; drenched in dew
reminiscing coils of sapience
seen in all corners of the room.
searching for some sense
where there lives only nonsense.
growing insane trying to grasp
magic from mundane.

earthly idols: all turned stone
like resounding walls
juggling with no catcher nor clone.
circulating beings; pick one-
how? without seeing what's shown

discerning devotion
driven to sheer delusion
confounded by exuberance
where only fear and control roam
through narrow corridors within
these lovely two-story bones

unsteady. undone.
i know not
which battle to be won.

and i'm trying-
hard as i might
to see through
and capture holy sight
along this dim lit path
that leaves me alone
where feelings of wrath
have surely taken their hold

what lesson lives in loneliness?
left my thoughts here
just as the powers that be
seemingly have left me
to solitary discernment.
not the slightest bit concerned
repeatedly echoing
what an embarrassment

no answers
only questions
once the dream ends
retreat into imperfections

heirs and heiresses
erring their cautions
blood thrusting through veins in hurried vigor and vitality
floating in fine wines and melodies so effortlessly poured
knowing not a possibility of drowning.

Clenching oxblood between teeth,
What little remains dripping down lips
creeping down my chin and
sinking into the depths of velveteen fibers caressing my neck.

Tighter
but loose enough to breathe.
Damper
but dry enough to stay afloat.

Flaming chiffon carnation
unraveling into a dance of ruffles.

Recluse of intrusive
thoughts beyond attainment.

No fife nor drum
conjure evidence concurring victory.
No strife to be named nor likened
to familiar perils.

Just an ethereal
reprieve of condolences
irradiating in the plague of mine.
Ephemeral sparks of hope
placating the absurd.
Entrenched in the hopeful hopelessness of the universe.

What catharsis lifts such dull fog?
Light enough to see through
yet dark enough to burden.