Forest Wildren
Oily sky, weightless portals
of slipstream bubbles in a fluid -
superhighway of a different means.
Effortless, my travel, everywhere at once,
like a cat after a string.
A scattergory of movement in instant summation.
Summoned by the reading of uncategorized belief.
Where what is possible is aspired to will,
like "Tom Sawyer" in a Rush song.
Looking for
that Sprite of Strange Wings
under moonlit skies.
She
will evade me no longer
in her Black Mamba mean streaks
of hide and seek.
She has singled me out to double since before the beginning of Time
and this pervading trouble she holds aloft.
I feel like ten feet thick lead,
laden with the now,
and quickened like an inertial flow
in which we trough.
In her presents -
she is leading with carrot to know, for sure,
That I will love her forever.
Then, she will show,
her smile reuknighted
to my soul's oath of capture.
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