what happens

only ever a phenomenal

anonymous dancer

standing by the guard

of the gates of death

don't touch

there are open wounds

bleeding orchards red

and miracles that are silent as well as

invisible in under the cloak of the expected

silver spider web growing in the long hair

it sways down the back and

around the hips

clouds at the naked feet with their

tiny ankle bells ringing

someone is looking back at you

for a moment in the mist of the mirror

and smiles are traded for joyful inner journey tickets

winds are always changing

to freshen the banishment's losses

the scope blowing spectrums painted

into black symbols deepening on the parchment

walls drawn into waves

atop the hills rolling away