Here,
Beneath the petals I've thrown,
The world becomes
Something of its own.
Under its endless sleep
I dream of a place where I can stay,
Maybe just to weep.
Along the edges
Of a caving bank,
The whirling wind nudges me
Just a little further-
But I know
I can't follow.
Nestled in my bed
I praise the nights,
For now I dread,
I am not my own.
Carpets of orange
Fill the divergence,
Of where I now settle.
Mourning on this path,
That found its place
Beneath my feet,
I leave my mind to think
And begin to wonder...
Will I find myself then?
