Aching

Whispers aching

Lying in a bed of mist

Theretofore thoughts arise

Vanquished by day dreams.  

Brittle

In giant sea of trees,

Brittle branches creak,

Watching from afar.

Wild inclinations ensnare,

Aromas of nature seduce.

Moments

I grow weary of these moments,

While no certain terms confront

Indeed, have changed my state

Yet such moments ravish my heart.

Asleep

In incubation—

We spiral outwards

Into engulfing innovations

Thus, drawn from intercourse

No doubt impregnates our sun,

So we become reborn.