Untitled & Confused

It is not going well
the souffle is collasping
the path ahead is closing in
Overgrown with vines that can’t be cut away.
There is a galaxy of beauty
in the twinkle of a snowflake
A drape of velvet
over shoulders of fairies
who toast cheery mead
at long table, ripe with plenty.
As I pass
a hand reaches out toward me,
a fairies hand grasps a ciboria
lid lifted to reveal
two crossed spice leaves
and aureole from a single ripe berry
topped with a single sparkle of honey.
Ancient strings, faint sounds
drift cross still blue waters
I am sitting on a single rock
and patient wait for a passing ship.


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