No need to say it was a vision

Accounted for accidentally like a hot breeze

In a storm remembered or narrated

Though I could say I felt out there

A fury aimed towards the living, right at me

Missed me every time

They could say, what’s gotten into you

As figuratively we’re seated together

In a perfect clearing being fed

Tales of prudence and harmony

As a girl sings scales in an imperceptible register

That’s what got into me

Not commonplace fervor

To which I say good

Even the crude scenes of paradise

Are so modest, all the real drama

Flares at the synapse with no affinity

To culture but to you

Who has seen the flash

And me out on a limb, fatally stricken