[the universe within]

My mind shifts from thought to thought, unable to quiet. I never know, when this happens, what the cause. Soon, the pain may come, explain anything. I admit to being lonely. I think the river is watching me. I know the moths are watching it, with their antennae, their wings. They know it through the leaves they eat, their moisture and must. Sometimes there are voices. Sometimes sparks of light. These are always followed. The less defined-- vagueness, wanderings-- may not be. Laughter is a sure sign. Tears, not necessarily. I'm never lonely anymore.

Lisa Olstein