lone mirage
White-powder weighs heavy on the silent landscape
Serenity slipping through frozen vegetation,
as my stride aimlessly lands on icy ground.
A sinkhole internally, much like the land beneath,
Pleading desperately from its cavernous soul
for a wisp of warmth or a hint of heat
My deafening screams traverse its echoing maze
As desperation inside guides the vessel with apathy.
Slowly losing friction and faltering off
Yet suddenly, a dim-iridescence ignites a path through endless tunnels
Bringing life to the lifeless body and mind
Weakly, but enough to envision a way out
Her voice.
The white melts off, replaced slowly
By a field of summer sand; soft and sturdy
Insulating its heat below me,
A force field through these emotionless walls
Her vision.
Springs the first bloom of Mayflower,
A seed and ship of new beginnings
Emigrating outwardly to its target.
Her writings.
Justifies the swaths of crowds basking in the sudden warmth
Dense in their well-defined features
And singularly discerned with photographic memory
Perhaps, a cherished nurturing of the present Summer
Leaves the cruel winter of caves a distant past
And the future whole again
radiant pecan
late vessel
worn ore
half monolith