Snow lingers as a blossom,
on the buds edge,
A wintery voice repressing
The new spring first song.

It came swiftly,

a quick kick to the gut,

and reverberates through my whole skeleton.

The dread, the fear, the inordinate sadness that has little source

or many small sources, that well up.

Overwhelming my desire to be,

or at least to be here.

Unrelenting Optimism

The thoughts ping, trapping me more easily than I trap them. They hold so much allure to get taken away in, and while I try to best them, they forever win. Instead I must consign the heap to burn, float away freely, or I must be bound in chains of reason and fantasy, worlds away from each other pushing at each other, yet, twining around and around until they are plied, as a cord, my sad version of sanity, reality and illusion bound as one to tie me to a world that I do not know, and while I would try to push and pull reality, to make it all that ties me here, I know that illusion, more alluring, wins at times, and that the ground that I feel I walk upon, is nothing but trickster clouds.