A whiff of a familiar scent and touch that tells you a lot more
Than an entire website
Are things that allow me to travel back like a flip chart
To an age free of appearances
Lost in a strange forest with no foot tracks to guide me
I grope my way through.
I hear the sound of broken twigs cracking under my feet like
A mad drummer out of rhythm
Endless series of cobwebs brush against my face, I stare
At the vicious spiders,
Dark, poisonous, and full of guile, they give me the creeps
But I move on braving them.
It’s pointless to think of cleanliness in this state, but still
I try to keep the cobwebs away
From my thoughts and that inner core of belief that keeps
Me going through anything
I close my eyes and do the flip chart; there I am back in the light
Here I am back in the light.
And I look back at the foot track I have created.
