sometimes all we need is the tinest of cracks to open up a ravine


My hands are out in front of me
Blindly reaching in the dark
For the switch to open up the world,
Ignite another spark.

My eyes are open
But no sight enters
My senses augmented, dulled
Distinguish edge from centres

I metamorph, I disappear
Iím reaching through the wall
Iím trying to find a way to
Fold the world into a ball

Everything is sprawled out flat,
Drawn out in a line
Am I entering a storm
Or will it all be fine?

Rumbling in the distance
Like a herd disturbed and wild
Can I change into a mouse
Am I that meek and mild?

Itís nearing, feel the tremors deep
Along the roads where people meet
To share the details of their day
Shout the house down, then retreat

History flickers past
Words to say now itís too late
For my voice is drowned out,
Too soft, open is the gate

Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 511 times
Written on 2006-12-03 at 06:47

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text

David Hazell
I like this. It drifts along, nice and easy.

David Hazell
I like this. It drifts along.

You seek and you have found, yourself in this piece, truly art!!!