I fell forward eyes open
Hands outstretched as the looking glass shattered and shimmered
Swarming around me in bravado beat.
Only I found myself unloquacious.
Drawn mute by the still storm.
My fingers brushing fabric as I tangled free of the labyrinth
Set to the tempo of four over four.
I opened the door and emptied my head of vexations
Written in quill dust.
Hearing only need and must
Until I wrestle from the rustic avant-garde shards of an ebbing consciousness.
A surreal theme such as them and me.
Feeling savant in the duality of such serendipity
Like the lapping rain that washes it all away
The words begin to fade.
Until once again I’m left with a blank slate and empty page.