Hold on. Hold tight.

Become of me the journey’s end,
where finally it settles in,
embeds in skin, and wriggles deep;
begun in sleep, where dreams ascend
and bubble through the porous guise,
unveiling sparks behind my eyes,
encouraging a far idea –
from smoky holes they flea, in fear,
into my arms. I work to calm,
and gain their trust.
They may. I must.