Quiescence in tendrils of vine and trickling waters
Surrender of the mind to heartbeats inhuman.
Grasping for intangible strands of light produce empty hands
And the spirit wanting to envelope the beauty, but nothing results but a memory.
Frustrated mind in search of a harvest
Longing deeply for satiation from that bounty.
Fruits consumed through the eyes and not the mouth
Can only nourish through memory.
So memories we revel in
Regurgitating tastes long past.
Some of these memories are not even our own,
As the wind whispers her secrets in a language incomprehensible.