There is a house made of glass on the banks of the sound.
Where purple Alyssum cover the ground.

Blades of grass caressing the warm summer breeze.
On a path carved in dirt and covered with leaves.

I walk down this trail every night in my dreams.
To a place in the meadows by the indolent stream.

All by itself, it sits in the mist.
It possesses a magic I cannot resist.

Charmed by a spell, possession of me.
A deep seeded need which I’ll never be free.

Walls made of glass.
No windows or doors.
No way inside to the cobble stone floor.


Rays of the dawn rise up from the shore.
They whisper in song of a wistful lore .

Desire smolders the embers that burn.
Fed by the hunger of an endless yearn.


Inside the house is a single lindenii
It is the true definition of untouchable beauty.

Elegant simplicity, varied colors of life
Unison harmony erasing darkness and strife.

Wild Orchid so lonely so frail.
I try and I try, yet none to avail.

A casting of vision upon thee bestow.
Spellbound, enchanted, flies of fire aglow.

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Sobering baffle in a heady embrace.
Translucent Bastille, compelled and encased.

I would offer my soul to break through the glass
To release my heart it holds in its grasp.

I wish it could know what it means to me.
In the hopes that its spirit would finally be free.


Ghostly orchid, absent of black.
To which every night I find my way back.

The house made of glass that keeps me from you,
Release me by morning and carry me through.

Never have I wanted something as much.
As a breath to inhale, petals velvet to touch.

Wild orchid imprisoned in glass.
I bid you farewell until the last day has past.



About paulsdahlman

Born in Southern California, raised on the road and now growing roots in New England. I am on the journey of my lifetime. May the footprints I leave behind form the words to my story.
This entry was posted in Enlightenment, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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