(feel the rhythm rise slow, the drumming of the storm approaching)
the world i am wrapped in is all of shadow caught in the dance of lights
night is a dream and day is a blur — where am i redeemed?
the silk that ties me to the waking sometimes taut and drained of blood
i am a curator of what drifts in the air, sometimes out of my grasp
o joy, this suspension, this tension, above all the courses i take
(traveler, the vision that drives you on has overtaken cities whole)
what calls me is brighter than the imagination of the purest light
to dream of love like falling leaves, like the aroma of wildflowers
rhyming every reason with words unspoken, that only angels can hear
i have gone and come back from the borders of the formless void
played wits with time, played hero; all the while playing myself on cue
(lightning! where the sky cracks to reveal the electricity underneath)
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