Ghostly, my mind wanders
absent, but desiring consciousness
fluttering, flighty
wishing my whispers were heard
for they are desperate,
disparate, as my thoughts.
never finding consolation or even
coherence, slave to the spoken word.

No sound I make calls
attention to my plight
for the glass is already broken
a mere tinkle as it descends
the pieces are tiny,
as are the clues, making complaint
only when stepped upon
a grating crunch that rends.

The stuttered joke, the sputtered
truism my only recourse
the story lost, as well
as the message, swept away
by the confusion within
the scattered themes, dreams and gleams
of light refracted into chaotic beams
beautiful, but all astray

The pristine mirror is lacking
the tool needed to focus,
bouncing back the light, bringing me
to bear, giving meaning to my meandering
I see myself in noone's eyes
unless it's a mild reproof
an accusing glance, asking for a beginning,
a middle and perhaps a final ring.

Such a glance is not enough,
it brings no clarity
I need a searching soul
an explorer, intrepid and bold
I need a craftsman, to put the pieces
together, and smooth the imperfections
I need a fire, to light my path
and keep me from the cold
until I find this gifted guide,
my potential will forever be undersold.

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