When four hundred winds wrestle with a seeker of light
end up hiding in a cave
the dwelling of tired bears, grumpy of chaffing.

                                                      ­                            dreamingofyou

Tomorrow is just a young child on the verge of learning
how to jump the rope and teasing gales into
your sphere.

I become a blue triangle. You've tripped on my atoms
inside. Let me out.
The engineer stands, baffled.
Malfunction in the algo. Sorry, it may take a while.

Let me out.
Or in.