Drifting

Drifting

 

The bells chime softly like butterfly wings;

eternally born the pendulum swings.

Outstretched and warm I sink into the banks

and hear the Earth; as it hums, it sings.

 

What is this place I found, or me

did it seek out, am I the dream?

With cupped hands of the cool I drank

until peacefully I slipped between the seams.

 

Time, it is lost

upon some different path crossed,

drifting away across the lake,

crowned in holy frost.

 

Tell me, can you hear the senses disappear?

Into entirety, the slip is drawing near.

The ground begins to quake,

yet this reflection remains clear.

 

Far off songs ring on for miles

disappearing completely while,

the lullaby eases you awake.

-J.H. Byrd-

 

Reviews

[ScriptedSilence]

The title is perfect for this piece. The push and pull is felt, as you unfold your thoughts.
A lovely spill of ink❤️

[JHByrd]

Yeah, I think it really speaks to the inner dilemmas that we face.

And I agree, not a bad way to spill some ink!