Dove Song

pre 2000

At the edge of meaning, a jagged cliff in my mind
where my gaze is obscured by
a cloud of confusion,
A familiar voice, the whir of an idea,
Sends chill, needle pricks across frozen skin.
At the limits of my consciousness
I hear the song of a bird,
Is it she, who possesses my answer?
-No-
She simply possesses my song