My dewy dreams fall
Like weightless petals,
Clouds of frothing mist,
Small intangible footprints
Of the tortured mind.

My fingertips grasp
The pure, evolving spray
Waiting for the end parenthesis
Softly whispering to stop.

But the thundering war paint
Of violence storms in,
Looping, flaming reds and oranges
Flood into the silent air
The colors collide and scream
Hollow, dreadful, filmy words.

Until all there is to depart
Dives off the last
Agonizing tongue,
And melancholy sediments
Settle with their icy, needy
Voids.

In this sailboat
On the sea of
Galloping, swooping, swirling,
Waves.
I put my fingers out,
Trying to grasp a vanishing mist
Only to fall victim
To the next enveloping crest.