what is it I hear?

aloof and snooty, snubbing all who dare seek her way

sorting, one from another, lines dubious.

I look her way probing for

what?

drawing upon wells long dry oceans of dust

and cracks wearily worn upon my inner brow.

pondering the profound I pander to cliché

coaxing genies from bottles invisible.

I long to taste Dionysian delights

ag-ed

austere

perfect

but spew forth non-existent pleasures,

rhyming Morpheus himself to death.

wait I longer for words unheard

grasping for what refuses bit or bridle, lilt and song?

the mind yet uncaptured reels against itself

pursuing that which is beyond the chase

but, in the pursuing, doubles back to find…

the journey.