Your breath is feathered

Flickering between the flame

And the backdrop

I hold on, then let go

Am I still standing on quicksand?

Your thoughts are always above me

This current, this space, this undertow

I ask; Can you give me a straight answer?

You chide, so amused with riddles

Everything in time settles the dust

It sparkles near you

Getting caught on the surface

If my thoughts could align

I'd be there

Begging for more light