Habits die only on the pyre.

my heart leaps out of my chest
running
running fast through those warm wildflower meadows
the grass being folded seamlessly with every step
the warm sunlight embracing my shoulders
the lukewarm puddles of water the rain left from the night before

with the trees and their leaves dancing
like a lively flame that won't go out just yet
like dandelions brushing against my fingertips
and how they slowly begin to rise
and float away into the afternoon breeze

i lay underneath the shade of a sycamore tree
the dandelions graze the sky with every gentle move
they soar through the trees and up to the clouds
and up to the atmosphere and up to the sun

i wonder if i can become a dandelion
in the next life that comes
even if it means i would be as fragile as cream surfacing a mug of coffee
even if it means i would be light and weightless like a feather
even if it means i would break apart
i would still want to fly

to soar the skies like dandelions do
and sprinkle the air with their hidden beauty
oh, to be a dandelion

i am flowers.
flowers
flowers floating throughout this thin, grey water that surrounds me
a bunched bouquet
colored and ***** rubber bands hold me close
embrace me and hold me tight
but yet i still feel like parts of me
parts of these petals that have once bloomed
and my darkening leaves
are escaping
writhing in this water
the wind blowing from a distance
the currents have me running into walls
endless walls of cascading waves
down
down
forcing me down
where can i only look up to the surface
and its light
forcing me deep under
i want to escape

an orange in the morning
yellowy sunlight sets through
the clouds, blueing up the sky
gets the green in another dimension
gets an evening red that glows
up trees in Mondrian's blue and violet.
But the moment I open my eyes I
feel the winter grey I'm not good
at. The desert deserting the ocean.
The gusts and waves through a coat.
So in black I draw the shades
around the heart, heeding for the
white light of Sun and Moon discs
always. The stars out of reach,
one can only see the seven rainbow
colours through the water drops
once a strange new day has begun
once the sand dunes start to move.
I cannot control foreshadows
I cannot measure the shifts of dunes.