One day it just wasn’t working anymore.
You needed to step out from behind the murky mask and go your own way.
Your heart stopped beating to the familiar drum of clatter and chaos.
You slipped into your comfortable shoes, your bed clothes, a shiny lake
And the mist blurred your edges as your feet danced on the pebbled ground
And you never let them squeeze into the sharp places that cut again,
And only silk on your body
And warm mugs of tea
Beside Jacaranda and Patchouli.
You remember a fragrance from childhood. What was it?
It was called dreams.