in pale blue light of the dawn
such fragile light, as if it is made of frost,
you are a marble statue.
lines, still, gentle arcs,
just as you are. graceful.
like the trajectory of the loons
gliding through the late autumnal sky.
i dare to stir the silence
slight haze of breath and slumber.
it was unforeseen, proper magic.
and i shall keep it
in a safe place
evaporate away from this physical state
in your absence
i cast the image
on closed eyelids
a proper bullet that goes through
fast, light, shatters the old world
like the cracked and broken old tv tube
it is no longer possible
to gaze with an old view
as life pulses through
the warmth of the blood
spreads, like spiderweb, like frosts on glass,
capillaries, carrying millions of
i am stained with
the very being of you.