In Repose

Sunlight dances on the pool of an iris

Blue-green shifting depths of want

A pen slips on the pale flesh of pages

Grown brittle with sun, yellow with time

Tattoo of poetry, ink-stained impassioned graffiti

Mapping obscurities with a burning wrist

Candle light flickers like sentience

Half-glimpsed epiphanies in spiral galaxies of knotty pine

My wooden chair is planted to the floor

Questing roots sent deep into the heart of terra

Where neural pathways of forest and field

Are humming songs I sing in my sleep

Here is where my spirit is born

Anew, from the womb of solitude

Each time I close my eyes

Nebulous clouds of metaphor

Are birthing stars who will burn long after I am gone

For any who choose to wish on them

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