In it but not of it
drifting through in clarity to see
those primal valleys of despair
where fear resides in piles of misery
and twists and turns the labyrinthine
corridors where inner demons dwell
not yet set free to fly within the swells
of salty-scented oceanic air
where dolphins dare arise to take a breath
for the power of hours has taken its toll
and rings a beat so deep, so true
that feelings never felt before
start walking through a door
we never knew was there
yet those crashing waves have opened
into everything we are
and there, a star is beckoning
the power of our wings to stir, to beat
again in natural rhythm of this form
breaking free to be itself again . . .

?Michaelette?