Grey Optimism

In my dreams, nothing has ever been so clear. In my dreams. Not passion, but exhaustion, heavy sky pressing my mind hoping for higher, higher clinging sideways and down the ceiling. Days touching nothing. IF I’ve listened to you. Seeing the world is not capturing the world. I am a fragile thing. The priest mouth full of words Does not attenuate thirsty for silence dying. But, strangely alive The birds will come, Praying keep me awake Fire, ash, wind. I wait