My father was a somniloquist; he only talked to me in his sleep. Lured at night by his one-sided conversation one room over, I would escape the cot I'd grown out of, gaze at my sleeping mother, and ... [+]
I am only a dandelion seed drifting through the wind,
Time passes within the breaths
carrying me here, there, everywhere, anywhere, and nowhere
I land in the loss of power
in the land of Loss
I will become overcome.
I will bloom, or not, the decision has not yet been.
And I am an if, for now,
I am okay with the breeze taking me
I am okay falling in the storms
I am okay when winter kisses me with her cold
I will wonder the world until I find my place to flower
in the place where seed breaks,
to finally bloom.