Sitting in the dark,
In the semi darkness.
Images intermingling on the canvas,
The semi canvas.
Crying out for an audience,
A semi audience.
Seemingly never-ending dots and crosses,
But in reality images smoothing themselves out of their imperfections,
Their semi imperfections.
Waves tumbling and crashing out onto the sea,
The semi ocean, the semi sea.
The sun and all its rays causing restlessness,
And when finally the semis of all things converge,
They converge to form not yet another semi,
But a full and complete.
A full and complete with all the power to banish the semis of this world to places where hopes exist only in halves, as the battered souls of the once full now remain in Tatters,
In semi tatters,
Their indignity mocking,
And even this is done in all its seminess.
And here the voices (the semi voices) pray,
They pray not for the changing of the season,
Nor the bringing of new tidings,
but for the barrenness, in all its barrenness to be full,
For the sun to shine in ALL its brilliantness and most of all,
for the rebuilding of their semi tattered souls upon full dreams.
– Tia (The Vibrant Lenz)