Nothing is,
what crumbles between your fingers
when touched, like thoughts, that once
were deemed so important,
now lie formless beneath your feet.
In a manifestation of repressed emotion
your tears evaporate into the ether.
Lost in the mist forever wandering
the time-warped forest, wounded, snarling,
you reach out across the gorge.
Chasms filled with untold thoughts,
stories with no beginning
tales with no end.
Pain, joy, pain again,
a light peaking through the cloud
snowdrops falling
you run the rickety wooden bridge
you jump the broken, rotting slats
dashing back towards your lost memories,
Infernal fire burns behind,
you know there is no return.
Succombing to the senses.
Will quick, awake, alive.
Survival rests in every cell,
no prophesy can ever tell,
what round every bend will show,
a taste of heaven, a smell of hell,
and things you may never, ever know.
Fiocle March 2011.
very dreamlike quality :)
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