Deep within lies the consumption that drains me
Pressured breaths to stagger by
In hoped existence of renewal and prosperity
Dying winds leave stagnant air,
Quiet resolution beneath the stars.

Simple inhalations of reverie
Swirling my reality
Nothing more then ink drops amid the ocean
Curving and distorting
Washing away with each passing wave

There the light wings find me,
To flutter upon my cheeks and awaken my eyes to morn.
Petal colours soft and fine
Delicate spun feathers of butterflies fly
Do I shiver from the beaten wings?
So many surrounding in silent dip and dance.

Minor echoes chime in haunting postlude
Each wing free yet the chaos grows
And each shattering pang destroys yet another beauty
Like snow they fall,
Melting my cheeks
And masking so much.

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Naturalis, in the year 484 AD.