line by line poem

This turned out really neat. Thanks to Maggie for the tip off.

This is a poem written one line at a time with each person contributing a line. David and I each contributed toward the end (you can see the people who contributed by going to the original comment section)
Untitled

Because there was no room for
Love or affection at a time like this
She turned away and looked to
where the tree had fallen
and found instead a light
It shone faintly and pulsed pale green
soothing her mind, calming her heart
transporting her to a place
Of inviting luminous turbulent meadows
, a whispering, gleaming land
where anything could happen, at a time like this
Because there was no room for
words unspoken, trapped inside looking for a way to escape
like a bird that’s flown down the chimney.
The light began to whisper
of new beginnings
and her frozen heart began to thaw
dripping through her veins, slowly warming her again
a warmth so inviting and comforting to her soul
she smiled to herself, hugging her secret close
Life’s a lesson, she thought, in
the back of her mind, as on the tip of her tongue
kisses and curses overlapped, like
the blossom heavy branches hot with
she spun the ring on her finger
sliding it past her knuckle, letting it drop
into the dark earth, golden seed of something
What was it the dream said she longed for?
That eternal longing one remembers when they were but a spark of holiness
before the wrack of age cut raw chunks from the purity of her hope:
and her body folded itself into smaller and smaller pieces,
with her soul curled up inside.
her spirit longing for the answer she forever sought
coursed through her memories as her gnarled fingers combed through gray hairs
and aged skin drooped to form thin lines- twisting ravines of truth.
An earthquake struck, pulsing pale green meadows,
startling four miles of birds, if you can imagine it, to darken the sky with flight
while whispering cadences of night pause
dizzying movement for one with a soul so stationary
struggling to find stasis between stillness and tip-toes
the delicate balance of a spinning spider or
the roar of a fluttering heartbeat
a sigh and the rush of a kicked ear
bruised by a melody so loud that
all the animals are running away
leaving only dust clouds and hoof prints in the tender earth
Because there was no room for
hope or desire, for that which thirsts the soul
can only be quenched through abandonment
the desert wastes of the deserted heart beats
To that all too lonely reply.
Yet the voiceless must scream still
to escape soulless bodies
a coward to the crossing of life’s earnest path
where time and memory still contest the field
and doubt is left the only certainty
but, I will not give up this round existence of worn remembrance
room or no room
worn step waiting in the sunlight
I will take root and rise again
Peril or no peril.
As the pale moon casts its eerie shadows
and sinister bats fly darkly into the night
a howl echoes through the gloom
of a darkness not evil but misunderstood
lonely and still it eats silence and coughs blood