Innocence Regained

O loathed, blessed contented discontent!
As a sighing grey mist does permeate a golden April afternoon,
So does a beaming sorrow blanket my quickening spirit.
O dreaded unrest, to ache after things not yet imagined
And chase after spirits yet unseen!
I smell its approach in the thick Mississippi air
As I inhale the scent of blossoming honeysuckle.
It invigorates my flaming tongue as I imagine
The bittersweetness of some forbidden fruit.
The change is fast approaching as a passionate cyclone
Ready to envelope me in its wild, destructive embrace
But I do not run wildly after some caress of a summer wind.
I simply lie in the sea-blue ocean of grass
And embrace the ancient earth,
Awaiting the day when I will wed the orange ocean
And make love to the indigo wind.
I will be everyone, and I will be no one.
But I will be me.
And I will be free.

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