Black Box

Naivety

Caught in the doorway,

in the horizon,

at the line we call change.

Pulled deeper into ink alleys by promise of safety

writ with moonlight on stone, scrawlings of patterns onto shadow.

But the promise of even the smallest chance of flower field warmth

Draws me out anyway,

over a tumbling edge

and through the bright clear parts of the sky

for miles without wings to fly.

Devoted as a lemming following it brethren

Struck dumb at the ways in which it is wonderful here.

I relish in the feeling of the fall.

I will be caught by naught

but the ground.

But for now it is worth it

looking into that infinite other world

In sincere eyes