Hot air from the belly of the deep.
Hot tears from the memories of her sleep.
Clashing and fighting, crashing and biting.
Cool release from the rushing of her leap.
Cool floors where she chooses now to weep.
Crying and fleeing, trying and seeing…
Pouring down on her like water from the deep.
Raging deep inside like the feelings in her sleep.
Murming and whispering, mumbling and slurring.
Water forms and follows as if to make her leap.
Water flows from hollows as she starts to weep.
Flowing and breaking, going and taking.
Burning her for heartache and burning her deep.
Fire forms the ashes and the nightmares in her sleep.
Tossing and turning, waking and yearning.
Flames arise beneath her forcing her to leap.
Intensity around her has caused her so to weep.
Burning and igniting, guiding and lighting.
Shifting in the sands to burry herself deep.
Six feet under she longs to sleep.
Digging and crawling, sifting and hauling.
Holes are dug to knock her in or cause her just to leap.
When she’s caught she will give up and she’ll start to weep.
Beating and pounding, falling and surrounding.
Arising from the trees, the sky and the deep.
The winds will blow and wake her from her sleep.
Whistling and howling, pushing and scowling.
When impossible to make it the winds will help her leap.
And dry her eyes when she is done and chooses not to weep.
Helping and holding, comforting and molding.
Passion arising from somewhere so deep.
The conflict and trial won’t put her to sleep.
Pushing and striving, trying and thriving.
Created here to help her when she knows she can not leap.
Set forth to hold her when only she can weep.
Blinding and revealing, destroying yet healing.