<fog>
dripping footsteps
in woods and hollows,
swirling on the blacktop,
alive with hidden fear
of a self
pining for its own loss
<there>
in the trees above the pond:
who walks there
trying to find me, seeing my end?
<tree>
if I was, I could grow alone
like green leaves on a weathered trunk
and learn how to dream,
for memory seeks eyes
as the bare trees scratch sky for light
<moths dreaming of an empire
of wool on fire \light>
<abide>
the flame inside,
the window painted
with our breath
and playful scrawls
<hidden>
clothe my bones,
unravel my true nature:
the dirt I'd do - if no one saw -
cleansed in the fire
</hidden>
</abide>
</tree>
</there>
</fog>
