Wisp o’willows moving in snow, unseen, living in imagination.
Wet glove on driveway, solid and cold, sticking and frozen in form.
Little dog howling, begging to come in … so cold … in pain.
Open wound, not healing.
Death is in the air, how many notice?
Patiently waiting for rebirth.
Out of ashes rises warmth that soothes,
Bells ring, signaling others feel it too.
Pine trees emit odor so strong, not unpleasant.
Reality of those outside, versus those within.
Within … where? Are there walls, or is it the whole of the landscape,
A complete zone.
One half cold, one half not.
Open gates beckon to enter, narrow openings, only for a few.
Gnawing on bones gives pleasure to some.
Straight back, rod for spine, seeking a way to relax.
Past memories bring haunting, attempting to instill fear once more.
Release, stepping back into present moment,
Spinning circles stop at intervals, never quite making it around.
Springs in place holding position.
Truth for me, perhaps not for you …
Seeing things differently,
One just as important as the other.
Perspective … pieces of pie.
Warm glow, strung out across the room, easy to sink in to.
Black void turns into violet haze, slowly moving in, moving out.
Too warm now, yet I stay just a bit longer,
Turning to face another direction.
Heavy hand, weighted hair,
Pressure … and then not.
Three flames flicker, treasure exposed.
Dare I look?
Do I really want to know?