I am a bit isolated lately. And this poem reflects that.
Will you talk to me about what goes on in the light?
Beyond my shimmering, shaking sight?
I will tell you of the moonbeams
Of colourful, iridescent silent streams
If you will just tell me what goes on in the bright
So far out of my sight.
I will tell you how I captured thunder in my skull
How lightning is contained within me without lull
If you will tell me the secrets outside my window
So far beyond my sorrow.