From the fumbled state of this festive twist, comes the dawn, bright, breezy and bold, a wandering nomad in the mist
The air is thick with ash and fog from the bygone night,
a lingering pattern of wispy plumes and dreamy shades
She’s in a void, past the trapdoors of perception, beneath the ether, she is the ether, the pale, rain-wrecked grey of the day before
She’s knotted into the neatly woven fabric of the night, beneath the flowing seams of the subconscious afore
Her eyes hold the stars of the fading night, the dreams of her forefathers and their kin before them
She is the rain and the drop, the bass, the alto, the nervous, the stable , the yang, the ying, the paint strokes, the fluttering shudder that shaded them
She’s the pale, the pitch, the string, the stitch. She’s my whole world and i’m but a flicker in the dancing shadows of her moonlit life.