Visions beam, no visions blurred,
enchanting be thy presence,
welcome, my essence yours,
entitled though the path once
it might have seemed,
bewilderment now as far as breath
can be heaved.
Pounding, irreverent,
knocking at my door,
ask permission?
I insist you implore,
wondering yet not at the soft curls
upon my head,
cascading down gentle curvatures,
have I made my tired bed?
I toss and turn in the night,
nothing seems right,
but in the distance I view something glisten,
where hope forth does spring,
listen…
I’m excitable, not for tirades,
but for what tomorrow may, will, might bring,
dig deep, I tell myself,
then a pause,
complications await,
none of this can be.
My spirit, relentless, will still soar,
regardless of the circumstance,
I’ll fly with ease of modality, so free,
consciousness, streams more and more.
Await, await
in my clouded dreams,
visions pure, warmth assured,
bring this to me,
a powerful undertaking,
a pull beneath the surface,
wanton deliverance?
No, I possess a different type
of ethereal substance.
Or so it seems…
a gentle knocking at my door.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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