the moon hums to herself
behind a pale shroud of clouds
i am vast
half dreaming
mingling with the wind
shapeshifting like the smoke
that whispers prayers into the sky
matters of riddle quietly unfold in the dying embers of the fire
with eyes closed
i dream new ways to pray
soft focus
deep gaze
time sways
and frays
elegantly
into the night sigh
. . . again i die
and with the sun i rise . . .
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
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