Lost

The dancing droplets swirled around,

Riding the crest of the weeping tide;

Breathing, whispering,

Enveloping me in a tingling

Shadow of myself.

 

The world was but a blur:

A mirage, flickering,

A candle in the breeze –

Fading away

As the day came to its weary end.

 

All but a ghostly sliver,

Lost beyond the horizon of Time:

Where art thou, oh

Dear kindred companion;

And where am I?

 

Rousing, I fix my gaze on the rain

Pitter-pattering on the windowsill outside.

Pitter-patter,

Pitter-patter…

A tingling, icy finger creeps down my spine…

 

Wrenching my eyes open, I wake to find the world spinning in wild circles,

All disoriented – or is it me?

Oh dear self! I sought thee

For days on end:

Didst thou not hear my desperate calls?

 

It wouldn’t stop, this frantic game;

The bounding whirlwind

Whistling in rapturous ecstasy,

Ever holding on

To that fickle key of Time.

 

Caught in the tumult,

My eyes are struck by a thousand arrows;

The sea of leaves blinding me…

 

Waking, again, I frantically grasp at the sheets around me;

I dare not open my eyes, for fear of tempting the ever-howling wind without…

 

Ne’er look, else be blinded – no:

Listen, listen, and there, perhaps, thou shalt find thyself…

~ Jordan Strobach-Morris, 26.03.2016

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