Finding the Path of Coherence
Wandering, lost
In the woods, whippoorwills
the crunching of ground
under whispering feet
Trees look the same
while they smile at me
The sky calls my name
in a blur
I am a dream
with an end incomplete
A fresh spring of water
to sip
which never is found
to be relished refreshed
in underground currents
to whir
Sunspots in eyes
in a break cracking light
The sounds of confusion
atrocious
Calming of green
in a bracelet of leaves
I search for a sign
of deliverance
Just when I fall
to impeccable thoughts
of skeletal ribs
for branches
the trees bend their leaves
and sharpen my view
to the wide open path
of coherence...
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006
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