I am wrapped in silence
in smoke and in manifest,
The dark shading my vision and coating my tongue with waxy compliance,
eyes veiled and my hands gripped in place
held fast with the strength of tree roots in splintered coldness.
And my brightness
becomes an apparition,
a brief surfacing spray of memory
a fading caress
before deepening into the escape of sleep.
Perhaps Morpheus heard my formless,
my unspoken pleas,
and graced me with a fertile fragment of illumination.
For there is something still clinging
flushed and quietly inside me,
my star still shining
learning to test the locks and chains.
Seeking out the fissures slowly expanding in the drought.
And I feel the warmth growing
gathering the strength
and I will burst forth.
I will be the sun itself
and break the very sky.