orgami's Diaryland Diary

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flicker fire fantasy

moonhigh
shadow cut
on silver cloth
floats in
spirit winds
rippling
like waves
on silent fingers

not even the hull
murmurs
the watch eyes
scanning
the stars jilted
like lovers
from a garden party
mingle

waiting for something
over the horizons curve
the blind spot
the newborn hour
swaddled in dreams

the universe calling
our true home

we came from them
we long to belong to
them once again

9:29 p.m. - 2009-01-08

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