Nightshade

The wind whispers in silver leaves.

Skirting over shiny black berries.

I wonder if they’re bitter or sweet.

Harmless things protect themselves

With biting bitter words.

These are not harmless.

They offer gut wrenching pain.

Maybe their first whisper is sweet.

I lived on the edge

Of a tapestry of fallen stars.

Where the world fell away to black.

Listening to rolling waters,

I lay upon my back.

Where the endless sky spun,

And caught my dreams in their gyre.

High above and out of reach.

So I chased butterflies into the rising sun,

And ended up were cacti grow like weeds,

Under black berries with silver leaves.

Tears held long turn to rage.

Burning a gut wrenching pain.

Like the poison of nightshade.

Amor fati, I say.

The dream’s out here waiting.

I haven’t made a mistake.