When I feel blank
Washed out, washed in—
Into dark and deep
And grey decay...
I move my eyes out.
Out across the horizon
The lidless capless
Limitless sky running
Blue feet wild over the world,
The mountains, Everything!
I find the print even in
My heart.
I find the color, and paint
The blankness with it.
YOU ARE READING
Prickmedainty Poetry
PoetryFor all those who broke their glass slipper and still search for stars in the shards.
