Night Fade

Brighter shades of black are painting on the mind mural.
Attempting to aide a crippled heart with crutches
As it limps along the byways of trajectories.

Feet do not have the power of wings.
Gravitational pull clutches onto skin,
while feathers are free to fly.

Levitational magick carpets sold at the caravansary,
Look for new types of energy,
Bubbles for dreamscapes, maybe.

Eclipsed by a mellifluous umbra,
Stepping barefoot in fields of reflections,
The scene paints feelings that take flight.

The weaver stays behind, grasping a thin thread,
Erasing fears of the battle of sole and soul,
Weaving potentialities.

(c) 2006