my third eye isn't open
but it blinks every so often
as i arise from rotten coffin
free of sin
bleached bones leaving their home
to start again
crows as my company
seeds as my food
stormy the weather
but sunny my mood
brooding on soothing
and soon bring fresh air from sea shore waves
breaking against the grains of glass
from solid to liquid it melts
s  l  o  w
over time
my hunched spine aligned with tree branches
iced over in winters
where snowdrifts hid misfit demons
that scheme in snow caves
with icy fingers and frosty breath
lost in depths
left behind alone
with only the sound of grinding
sand still in the hour glass
with its molasses drip