To the unknown,
and the predictable,
a wet leaf treasures
nature with pleasure,
and hugs its
changing seasons.
As she watched the world
deliver life
into her hands,
she danced.
Uncertain if
a wound would
take her,
or if she would
continue to reach
out to me from far away.
My coat softened,
and I asked: What if?
Those wintery nights,
thick,
and barren,
were icy meadows,
Where lonely
skanks scrolled by.
Resilient,
I reached for
a dream on
a barren dune
where
sand and a viper laid dormant.
Out of fear,
I discovered a person
that used to be me.
Who silently pondered
if emotion and devotion
rival love and hunger,
like an aberration
void of passion.
I chocked in insane laughter,
burned prematurely in fires my heart started,
and drowned in my shallow pond.
Eyes closed,
behind a dark alley,
a fertile grapevine
where thoughts lingered,
and nonsense prevailed.
I finally found an identity
so strange,
I dared to call a home.
Where I
could give a green smile
and get a grey touch in return...
Knowing the season
is robbing us
of our dreams...
Should we groan
with pain or fall
to the ground
with a rising
moon on an early Spring.
A voice of reason
reminds me
of breezes,
blue skies,
and hurricanes,
I can no longer
understand.
Those were my thoughts,
this thunder
I felt all my life
and kept inside
until I realized
her and I,
were not alike.
Thunder rumbled outside
for all to notice,
and contemplate,
and fear,
and ignore.
What's left in me is a chuckle
of fury crispier than
a frozen leaf on the ground.
Fainter than a shallow breath,
stronger than a sublime sensation.
Said Leghlid, 1998.
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