Under party lights
A night you don’t confess
But there, above, a brooding cloud
Foreboding sight
And, by the morn’, a looming shroud
But there, above, a brooding cloud
Foreboding sight
And, by the morn’, a looming shroud
Gone from memory
As if
They’d never
Happened
For in the darkness
Beauty thrives
Captured here by glassy eyes
A net to capture
Brittle broken crystals
Falling gently
Alighting on smallest twig
A coat of soft white
On gnarled white bark
I carry compassion
A torch to light my way
Through the darkness of unseeing
I wield mindfulness
A blade to cut my way
Through the brambles of being
Physical
Geographical
Emotional
Intellectual
Personal
Romantic
And every time
Find something new
Some original way to see
Some valuable insight
The light
Flat as the calm sea
And equally tranquil
A scene
Rendered entirely in charcoal and smudge
But for a band of cottony hanging fog
I seek the frame
In which destruction’s beauty
Can be seen