Frey Into Grey
At the cusp beyond
and in between
the death of night
and birth
of a new ray
Trailing moonglow in my wake
Light gained with breath
each one I take
The sweetest drug will always have
the best of the ups
the best of the downs
The most intriguing intoxicant
keeps you floating
at the center of true sight
Held hovering
in observation rotation
by the weight of the world
and the gravity
of a sleeping planet
One slow to stir
but quick to dive
back into illusion
Time frozen
like a melting ice sculpture
The peak of its beauty
caught only
in a single blink
Snapshot Silence
before beading sweat returns in earnest
upon its frigid forehead
Rolling reluctantly
down the swerving curves
of this sculpted moment,
ready to meet their dewy kin
hanging on to their respective blades
anxious to meet their new siblings
who
like angels
seem to have fallen
from some distant heaven
They can’t fathom the source
from which their found family came
And they know nothing of the magic
that once held so many fallen angels
in the fleeting freezeframe
that some say
resembled a face
while others
shaken
and awestruck
are adamant they witnessed
the spitting image
of God
.
.
.
