Hope
How far out of reach are you?
The tantalizing breath of a promised sojourn
in sheltered valleys
With peony-scented laughter in the
unhurried gaze of playing children,
Do you trick me to imagine or weave
to blind me with a gauze of illusion?
Are you the ass’s carrot or the bullocks whip?
Will I catch up to the vision glimpsed
in your soothsayer’s glass
Or do I indefinitely stumble behind in the
inhalations of this dusty Djinn bottle,
an indentured spirit?
You arrive so naturally,
imperturbable and unwavering
But I have lost the enchantment
of your encouragements,
Watching you as the crone watches crows
in fields swept by a carousel of seasons.
Will you bring corvid magic or
be the stone-eyed messenger of
lofty fae who believe the world a dance of enjoyment?
Your fiddle has long since failed to move my feet,
Rather would I laugh at your graceful swirls
in the mists of yet-arriving moments
And pretend we have an appointment
which you yearn to keep.
Published on: Threads @between.speak, The Nothing in Between
Date: 11/05/2024, 13/05/2024
Image by Erik-Jan Leusink
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