Optimism, cut and dried, hanging from the ceiling rafters
sheds its scent as it shakes in the strength of ringing laughter.
This is what my ribcage was, a fountain bright and ocean clear-
the world has given much to me, but taken more than that, I fear.
I feel them still, the shadows of the peace that once I took for granted-
with patience and hard work I know I'll find again that place enchanted.

Waning

The moon shrugs her shoulders
and sheds light from her skin (oh
unspeakable act of rebellion
that they say that it is)- but never
does she abandon her throne, only
closes her crescent luminescent eyes
and sleeps.