the open walls enclosing overhead
crawling into the embrace of place
feel a spinning twist into stillness
lost motion found its fill
in the pregnant silence resting
creeping foggy caress
sweet smoke and scars
viridian promises
tiny tongues of baby dragons reaching for the sun
someday soon the mist of their breath in my blood
what happened to the turbulence?
what happened to the biting fires?
where did all the hunger go?
a sleeping dragon reconciled
watching the end of a beginning spool by
clarity remains out of reach
in memory remains the cool fog
breathing the life of the world
Author notes
More journal-ported stuff from when I was growing poppies. Sadly, they ended up getting fried by the sun barely a week before they would have bloomed. 
Comments
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well done
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i like this, well written, sorry i don't have much to say
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