Dear Me

Dear Me

Life,

Casted from the wing

Of the bluebirds illusion

Beckons.

A forest

Walled on either sides

Exhales at long last,

Murmurs in its dreams.

Dear Me

Dear Me

A hand clasped within mine

Is smiled at

From below

The dreaming maze.

Carefully,

Carefully,

Dear Bluebird

Will your illusion,

Still surreal through

Many a cascade of years,

Settle?

A hand clasped in mine

In the wading dawn,

Is all we need.

Up on my shoulders, you reach for flowers,

Unreachable on the cliff wall,

A bluebird weaves them into its wings

And rejoins

The soft, green

That it’s illusion has allowed us to grasp.

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