o n e l i n e a t a t i m e
There’s an ocean underneath
where the land is pushed to shore
many find there paths there
over heaps where trails abore.
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Many rains have fallen
over many below and ahead
and well up under footing
drowning souls with dread.
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But some do rise above
and set their minds to fly
there they see above travail
watching the drowned float bye.
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Easy way, she said
to follow along the maze
don’t look to hard
and don’t sit for too long
or the mind will become a dark haze.
–
He replied in steady flight,
then let us roam the breeze
where the sky can keep us covered
and we’ll rest in the comfort of trees.
–
But the storm was too strong for both
and neither held their ground
for the fire was hotter than expected
and devoured them with hardly a sound.
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The pattern that runs through the mind
unleashing its torrent of aftermath
what lays in puddles of remembrance.
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Drifting among the subconscious
the strategy of drowning depths
upward, downward, left and right
and always seeming to sink.
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No reaching among the wade
only drifting further away
seeping under unopened doors
bringing in the flood.
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The torrent that rushes eyes
foaming at the sea
falling into open air
resting in gentle ripples
swells among the open mind.
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–
I saw her
by the window
in fine drapery
her hand gently upon the pain,
it had drown her in her life
and suffered her in death.
–
The breeze came in
it breathed her name
gently touching the flowers
set neatly into a vase
I could almost hear them whisper,
‘Dahlia.’
–
Then the clouds arose
and buried the moment
a shadow cascade
that shewn where she stood,
just a gentle flailing flurry
of her grace.
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