How do you name something formless?
That lies beneath the metaphysical skin of a mythical creature constructed by air strokes with an invisible paintbrush
And you may come close to where my thoughts go at the moment
Was it a shadow rippling across the field in the last shaft of sunlight before the onset of a moonless night
Was it there?
Did I see it?
Or was it more of a feeling of great beauty
A sigh that rippled along the hairs of my arms
Footsteps of a fairy dancing across my heart
More a memory
Or a dream
And why would anyone ponder capture of such an ephemeral spirit
Some things after all
Are best left wild