My leaves are tattered and dry
Too long sitting in this warm place
I’d fly if they’d not crumble
Light from inside on my windows
Reflected back as deep shades
Haunting me with the complete now
Cold sand a passageless portal
Lines too well defined stand straight
Empty space created in their guard
Holds the three muses at tired bey
Open, closed and slitted eyes seek
Melting sand returning to trickle
Stillness shattered and falling
Shards break confinement’s hold
Winds merge flawed sands and snow
White walls crumble swiftly in a calm
Opening to the wildest winds’ chill
In a particle storm I awake determined
My wing-leaves reenforced by sheets of ice
Muses drop from their pale prisons
The grains of their solid existance
Melt back into the blinding storm
Rush my lungs with glass and ice
A paper cut wind unleashed
Lifts the tales of liberation forth
Spilling leaves to clothe and cling
Burning fuel tattooing others’ dreams
A step toward the fade out sky
Falls into the waiting powder field
Leaving nothing behind with footfall echos
Life in journey free upon the pathways