fey,
incomprehensible,
i stand alone on the edge of
disaster and skip
pebbles. just might have been
mistaken,
thought perhaps
i had a soul
mate, but i
am not who i
used to be, not yet
halfway there
jumping lightly over
the rocks at low tide i
can’t help
thinking that by
tomorrow’s
tomorrow there might be
nothing left except
ether and flame.
the tenth muse 
Death is coming.
very etherial
i like the idea of being of ether and flame
well done, good to see
thanks for stopping by, dean.
–jsl
Hello again,
I really liked this piece. The foreboding hangs heavy in the air and yet there’s contingencies.
Nicely written.
pax vobiscum,
Dean
a lovely poem, skillful line breaks that heighten the feeling of tension. You have a light and deft touch with your words and lines, very well crafted.
I read this and see the future half full, not half empty
thanks, ray; a visit from you is always lovely 🙂
–jsl