Heart skipping beats. No thing
settles or lands...
Rather it is lost up there....
Rather I an ornament with wings caught up
in the gust.
Ether intangibly yanking
from any direction at all.
Sitting anxiously...
Trying to answer the call.
Moody, with angst..
Laughing still, an exhibit
and bolstered through
Dis-ease.
No thing settles,
Rather tumultuous the storm and
Nothing to see in sight
Beyond pelting sweaty water
and jolting torrents of air
Usually deadly to a Fae.
Nigh....
But none too deadly this night.
Rather like something much more to come.
She will find herself rested up
on some foreign shore.
Land and life upon it,
All new breeds.
Yet it is only now,
She is flailed so...
With nothing but a gut's foresight
For with which she can see.
No different than I.
Just another form of me.
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