Thinking about certain things.
by Ian J Daw

    I'm wrapped in cold air
    free floating
    arms wide,
    in a three dimensional
    empty savannah
    of soft, stunning blue
    held intact and perfect
    by a glass shell,
    a numerical sphere
    as thin as this moment.
    Drifting
    enclosed in an endless
    rain of tears
    covering,
    distorting
    and so,
    defining.
    I look out to my past,
    I am pierced everytime
    by the flattened, moving fluid
    dancing it's memories.
    You look in to me
    and your gaze is carved
    long before it arrives.





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