Artemisia

Betwixt mirage and echo, in a land of sand and ice, bordering crystal clear oceans, overlooking the abyss at world’s end, …

I thought I saw her, … again.

I looked over the world’s edge to see if Hades had indeed frozen then listened for the songs of Eagles, for if she it was then they ought to have appeared as well.

Recalling dreams, I sought to float effortlessly and avoid the pinch of doom. I might well dare anything in that state, all but that which waking day might bring.

Dreams would likely fade and then my promise never to recall her name would seemingly remain unbroken, at least among the wakened death of dreams nightmares become.

Congealed feelings hidden among a sepulchered soul’s lost labyrinths best left undisturbed stir in restless slumber, denied dreams, yet memories of warm sighs sometimes intrude.

Twixt ecstasy and anguish then my nights are filled, the moisture I exude alternating between deathly cool and feverishly hot, as entwined imagery unveils amidst pasts and presents and futures un-distilled by time.

Betwixt mirage and echo, in a land of sand and ice, bordering crystal clear oceans, overlooking the abyss at world’s end, …

I thought I saw her, … again.
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