Dragging grudge-fossil boned,

Battleship-anchor, chain-jointed carcass

In hopeless pursuit of sleep’s

Elusive dryad dancers;

Through the glades, along the rides

Of silent, silver-filtered, star-starved

Low Moon Forestlands.

Aching, desperate and needy

Stumbling, heavy-hearted, heavy-eyed;

Robbed of breath and energy,

Chasing mocking shadows-in-shadow.

I mean only to join, befriend,

Embrace the gentle faerie waltzers

Who skitter away, giggling at my plight,

Leaving only teasing waymark arrows that

Point to the trip-root, winding ways that

Lead to Fool-Takes-All, here-too-soon

Exhaustion’s Dawn.


Morning everyone …