of boughs bending,
of unexpected endings.
He has a view, but
no answers.
A heart of
melting lava,
churning thoughts of you.
He searches and finds you
amidst the blood and water,
refusing to fly
though wings are spread
through open windows, and
sonorous voices sing
in a copse of tangled trees.
Unseen intuitions
lessen the burden,
but not too much,
nor too well.
© Ray Cattie
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