I watch the wavy half-curtains letting in the playful sunbeams and wind into this room where my fingers are tapping on keyboards and giving my thoughts a form of a word. I wonder why the rays couldn’t transform themselves into those little yet mighty sparrows that would plunge on the shadowy cobwebs of grief hanging in every corner of this room and devour those spider thoughts stopping their weaving once and for all. Golden sparrows exist. They reside in words of rhythm and rhyme to pull me up from caverns of my sorrow.
From nebulous nights
Dim stars surface one by one
The fire bird at dawn
Posted for Haibun Monday: The Shadow Knows over @ dVerse hosted by Hayesspencer