Outside The Shadows

In the oblique mist where the dragon sits,
a dazzling breath of life emerges
and our pens engage in the weight of soliloquies
of space and time.

We find the right words to alter our egos,
our souls aflame,
changing our lives.

As a child, I stood timidly outside the shadows,
healed by the poetry of older women,
as I marked my steps.
The valiant challenge of their writings told me
I wanted to be better than dust
and I willed myself to follow them for the rest
of my life.

The forest of trees was like a jungle,
thick with the compositions that wrought true
meaning,
be it a subject of love or war.
Ideas of writing had to be rich in tempo,
holding strength was foremost ahead.

Still, am I that child,
creating justice with inky black fantasies,
grand illusions recorded,
the pain of their silent staccato raining
wild-eyed through the shadows.