• No span of night, no day

    Time unravels
    Flight shepherded by fancy, dreams
    Or vines twisting unslackingly
    Ensnared, in trouble, and happy

    And falling off the cliff are sounds
    The wind whipping the willow
    A flute of sweet dripping bees
    How decadent these moments

    Tendrils that vanish not
    though slumber cease

    linger still
    smirking memories
    an inch more ahead
    than intelligence divine

    Both full of unrest,
    trouble and excite

    eye awaken!