undulating, waves in a dream; white owl slipping eyes through me, gleaming in the night aloft with arcane insight
strange, bewitching mind prism reflecting self contextually speaking echoes voicelessly like puffs of smoke erasing me:
there is no thorn in my foot while i limp down the road drenched in the fading red sun
i am the fog at dusk
somewhere beyond the veil, in a misplaced pocket of time i hear the laughter of raucous celebration not in shimmering marble halls but amongst the pariah under the bridge, emanating heart-song