the purple washes over the delicate petals of flowers with permanance of light
she answers me with clipped meanings carrying the weight of an oak tree
and I see light in the leaves because she let me read her fortune,
she let me peer into her like a golden urn and to her glory there were not ashes
inside but a room for two draped in red and couches of glowing velvet.

she lifted the net.
now all i see is open water skirting in fanned blades of wake for flying fish,
all i see is wide ocean swimming towards us, depths unconcealed though they are beneath our gorgeous flight, where they shot at us before their weapons have jammed with seawater, where they threw stones before their arms are heavy from trying to keep afloat.

and dadelus says to build your own wings this time, for you are no icarus, that, and i know you like a kindergarden friend painting circles with an orange brush on cheap art paper with a smile on his face, saying it is the sun, it is the sun.

drink languid earth from the grounds of coffee and set your wings to the arch of the sky, become who you were born to be, leave all this fettered mess behind. were they so great to you truely? What have they done to your music, to your song, when you sang in the sandy prison yard, did they not stone you too?

i have their marks upon me, but they are only marks and not secrets or destinies. make it so that they don't understand you when you guide the arrow into their hearts, because that will make it easier than explaining. That will make it easier to leave, my love, and that is what we are all set on doing with our lives,

making it easy to leave.