- The
Reach
- Fleeting
phantom of mist and smoke
- whose
face swirls like autumn leaves
- in the
breeze of my thoughts
- for a
moment I see it
- then gone
- then here
again
- it teases
me
- calls for
me to reach out
- to
embrace the illusion
- so I
reach, but the breeze
- only
cools my fingertips
- and I'm
left with the memory
- of the
face of the fleeting phantom.
-
- Walking
alone, I feel the eyes that watch
- I hear
the whisper that calls to me
- I turn my
head and catch a glimpse
- of a
shadow as it melts
- into the
light
- so I
reach
- to catch
its coattails
- but my
grasp rewards me only
- with the
burn of a memory in my palm
- and I'm
left holding a moment that has passed too
quickly.
-
- But in
midnight's blue realm, where dreams are life
- I wander,
never alone, companioned through the mist
- by the
shadow whose face swirls
- in the
breeze of my heart
- there can
I embrace its form
- and be
one with its substance
- until I
become the phantom
- for which
I reach.
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