On the brink
walking a fine line
neither here nor there
in a netherworld of being.
Between the moon and the stars
the spongey soft space
where ideas grow
and feelings fade.
Living in limbo one
day bleeds into the next,
faraway voices heard
but not understood.
In the cloudy fog of inertia
stifling the progress, I sleep.
On cat paws creeping
time escapes perception
slithers away unseen.
Signaling a new dawn
the sun spreading
color variation chaos
presents a new dilemma
of dreams unspoken.
I live in wait.
Waiting crouched ready
to pounce
to seize,to behold,
to be.
Lucya WK Lebid @ 2009
© 2009, Lucya Kotelewec Lebid, all rights reserved
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