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Click hereIt's out there waiting for me
pacing in the Painted Desert,
sleeping deeply in the forest,
underground, undertow,
beyond the fields of my vision.
I know not where or when
I might find it or be found
by it. Maybe in a dream
revealing what I hide inside,
or in a gift wrapped rainbow
from the little boy crying;
concealed in plain view
of everyone but me.
I is another,
a drunken boat bobbing,
circling in the fog
past the piercing lighthouse
as the rooster crows,
while I tell myself:
"there will be time,
there will be a time."
I am the stranger
against the wall
on the other side of the mirror,
studying it.
Am I afraid, or is it true?
The mouse giggles
at the havoc it creates.
The sapphire sky
invites me to dance
beneath its beauty.
I see a fork in the road ahead.
Will I take it?