I greet an abstract as my name,

The colours as our conversations,

I throw those coordinates onto the space

With a unique emotion obscured and lost,

But to make the words fly to the lake,

I seek an elm from  the faded abstract,

The puzzle resolves through colours of the game,

And the elm burns a desire to resemble their grace.

It burns like a phoenix to rejoice its death with each stroke,

And the abstract reveal a further dimension to the shore.

A lake well driven in my imagination,

Floods the reaches of my universe,

And I lose myself into a thought that hold the converse.

The ink fills my ocean and reflect meanings out in the night.

Where a moon appear over the ocean to read a lost sign,

But it is not too late, till the sun arrives,

And turns the water red, and my mind blind,

With no vision I wake up in a forest,

A forest where I live to drram again.

I am a writer and I need to feel again.


2 thoughts on “A Feather 

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