Hovering low below hope and above dispair
This quiet tension
a sullen lullaby
To be held like early fog
Feeling something in a future unseen
Shadows dancing just out of focus
Half formed sentences
Words devolved into shapes and colors
A raging fire thirsty for life
A gust touching every cell of skin
This pivot and prose
Lays over everything
Sometimes in the morning
Sometimes in the mourning
