Mummbles from
The circle
From the other
World
Muffles through
The tinkling sounds
Of the brook,
The birds sing songing
In the trees
While the sun
Filters through
The thickening
Verdant green
Canopy
Of some distant
Forest.
The sliver
Crescent of Luna
That hangs in
The sky
Holds in another
Time and place
The eternal lands
Of ethereal beings.
I'm caught between
Two divergent paths
One to listen
To the other worlds
Draw and write
Under alien crescents
Listening to breezes
Whispers
From other places
And worlds…
I could sit here
And leave
Others with
More solid
Bodies to this
World.
The other is to
Go out
Be available to
All passersby,
In each given
Moment
To be the angel
That I am
Godsend looking
To do the right thing
While trying
To house, feed,
And cloth
Myself.
Beneath my feet
Is a moss so soft
And green
To the point of
Glowing
I forget the previous
Thought…
The air is clean
But thick with
Life,
A gentle breeze
Blows…
A pixy flies
By
Unconcerned
With my presence,
We've already
Collectively decided
To kill ourselves
Here…
Slowly so it
Won't hurt as much,
In the end
The children
Will wonder
What the @#$
We were thinking.
In Illandria
The scene is still
Playing out
Wait for me
To return
They will have me
One way or another
Because time
Is not
As it is
Understood here
Now.
I feel like
I am going to
Be ripped
Apart by
Forces I don't
Really understand.
Can't I just
Go back?
Everyone is waiting,
Though when
I return
It will be
As if
No time
Had passed
At all.
Here.
There.
Then.
Now.
I just want to
Be lost
In crescent breezes
On distant shores.
