Sinuous in my silk gown, I slip seamlessly though
the enveloping white mist, its droplets, glinting
like diamonds, caught in the tendrils of my hair.
The mist is ice cold, alive and swirling and
I am flung around like spun sugar. Scarlet
streams of blood, leave my body and
my breath is severed from its roots,
as a lone tree is felled by lightening.
A haunting stillness, a calm, the storm
dies, all colour is drained away, as
I am drained into an accepting peace, to a
simpler existence of where I need to be.
My wounds healed.