Away

Sharp rain on the window
Freezes icy, on streets,
I so wish just to travel away;
For with head pried from pillow,
Yet again, past repeats,
Morrow's skies seem forevermore gray.

May I dream of that land
With the crystal-bright skies?
Sweet grasses where aurora dew plays?
Might I reach out my small hand
To a world who's sole guise
Ripens with bright, blissful, berry-sweet days?

If I keep to my own,
And tread lightly, Earth's Edge,
Twirling softly, if only, half-way;
All together, alone,
Might I leap the mind's ledge,
And sound verses, which few still dare say:

"As I trickle anon,
I shall vanish this place,
And you'll see me, not once, since this day;
For as whispered, of old,
Of Entirety, embrace,
And once again, be as Never: The Way."