Free Form Poem--Denizen of the Void--National Poetry Month

DENIZEN OF THE VOID

Into the stillness 

Between waking and sleeping

A thought springs

Growing 

And expanding,

Unfurling gossamer, iridescent wings

Until it fills me 

With awe.

It grips me

With delicate pincers.

The least breath

Of disturbance

Banishes,

In the space

Of the tick of a clock,

My etherial

Intangible.

It's gone!

What once

Filled me

Has vanished 

Without a trace.

Though I mourn

Its whispy passing

And marvel at its talent

For slipping, 

Wraithlike

Through my fingers

I cannot hope to 

Bring it back.

Only lure

With night's wakefulness.

© 2017 by H. Linn Murphy