Running after the shadow for the eclipse that never was; gatekeeper stops all child closeted behind but protection is not needed trying to save others, I lose myself under the trees moving in the wind. Up on the hill, everything seems small Down in the valley, I am not tall The more I seize, the less I control More I control, the dust will fall; Turn the day, for the night I sleep Searching for souls I cannot keep – except my own looking behind, the dark sombre flower, the scary bark of tree or dog I do not know inner storm, then calm will show. Tinsel on the delicate branches consciousness in slender tranches Then I wake, down the hole Falling, no ending, imperfect soul.
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