The dancing droplets swirled around,
Riding the crest of the weeping tide;
Enveloping me in a tingling
Shadow of myself.
The world was but a blur:
A mirage, flickering,
A candle in the breeze –
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.
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