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