Mist hovers over field Ariel-esque,

willing to serve.

Girl recumbent in reverie reaches out

brain tentacling birthing snowdrop thoughts

dreaming of unveiling wind prevailing

of lotusing

of rescue

of gently awakening to

unsorcerous dawn.

.

What ought to come to no-one in night,

does, instead - remembrances

she does not want

to own,

evil scenes of past events, past

hatefulness, things

that won't lie still, that will rise ugly-up,

monstrous visions, viper-toothed

that viscous bite,

that penetrate,

that eel into head,

ferociously gilled, slimed and

engorged,

.

purpled.

.

So lonely

in the songless predawn, listening

to the torturous drip-drumming tap of water-drop-thoughts,

sounding out, finding out, being forced

to conclude

that what one had always accepted must be Love - for what else could it be? What else

would be

acceptable to soul - was

not.