fog, tinged with the scent of copper
rolling across acres
of deep yellow gold

black butterfly upon a black eye susan, seated.

"Sornache? are you listening?"
I find myself asking repeatedly
not expecting an answer,
alone as I am
in the field
fog enfolding from forests
that held welcome, hope and home
cryptic breezes murmering across wheat heads
half heard words in the wind.

"Sornache! speak clearly or get yourself back to Antedum"

I dread the fog,
with its blood scent
this is a sacred place to me
I thought to find safty here
of all places
yet it follows
like the sky fire and
the blood of mountains dying
still clings to my feet
where I could not help but step into it.

the wind whistles and brings the fog closer.

How i long for Antedum...
the drabness of that sheltered world is
not so drear in the face of these recent events

the wind whistles, Sornache's voice whispers across the boundry
"Come," the spirit whispers "come my little Oguku, flee into Antedum for a time"

01/31/2003

Author's Note: Antedum is a dream world, sometimes drear, often just beyond reach of those who seek it. A safe haven from the madness.

Posted on 01/31/2003
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