When the universe tips out a mist,
one that half-hides the space ahead of me,
I draw in the cloud close to me and hide the day.
A cloud of sweet, wet mist touches my skin softly and warms me, travels the length exposed flesh and recreates the universe for a moment or two.
When time is blocked out by a soul who casts a long shadow,
devouring the light, hiding a sun that once shown above--I pause to ask its name.
Travel west to a great open space of life laid out. Create a new universe. Make everything go away. Love the me I hide. Love the me that yearns for truth and peace. Love the me that is ugly and hurt. The me that is imperfect and angry.
Love the me that may be wrong but is locked. Love the me that loves, best I can. The me that would live in the mist if time and space and the sun meant nothing.
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