Heartbreakingly,
inexplicably,
unseen in agonizing silence
with no one
to memorialize them,
starfish begin to disintegrate,
dissolving into star dust
which we may unknowingly
breathe in through the
pores of our skin.
Nature reflects nature,
while dead stars
fall blazingly from the sky
in depths perhaps darker
more clandestine than the
entire span of universe
Astoridea break apart
like fireworks as they
begin to evaporate into the air.
When celestial bodies
recklessly plunge to the Earth
the whole world gapes in awe
as if witnessing miracles
but as sea stars
perhaps less gracefully,
more subtly yet possibly
with farther reaching co
Into my soul the snow has fallen,
a quietude of wintery warmth that comforts me
when nothing else can, a friend silent and
sincere-she draws me outside to walk with her,
crunching blue Moonlight beneath my feet as
I cast from me Father Time and his minions,
in this Night they don't exist, only the Silence
that ruffles through the halcyon plumes that
cushion my soul from hearing too many sounds,
again another frayed nerve ricochets off me
to echo in my tears, but they are too plenty
for me to catch just like the icicles that fall
from the shivering eaves when I pass by,
I feel hollow inside and I ache like I've
met an arctic collision, but I
A soft shimmer grows slowly
In the East, so lowly.
The black sky sprinkled with white
Could swallow the faint light,
But instead turns navy blue.
The horizon blushes pink
Diluting the dark ink.
As the world's painted with gold
All the colours unfold
And the sun rises anew.
As if stars fell down from high
Down from the paling sky
The ground glitters in the light,
In this early morning's sight,
Covered by the pearls of dew.
Have you ever watched the light
begin to awaken,
How she gradually opens her eyes
upon the world and unveils
quickening life?
Her breath stirs
everything into motion,
it is felt as a reminder
of our own blood.
She touches everything,
enfolds the world into her embrace,
the most subtle of changes
the gradient between
her slumber and her waking
can be witnessed.
On the rarest of occasions
in a moment so sudden
it barely fits into time
one might live within the space
between the two suspended,
yet it passes scarcely noticed,
gone only in a breath.
UNDER A SICKLE MOON... by Heather-Chrysalis, literature
Literature
UNDER A SICKLE MOON...
Upon the dusky preserves of me does Autumn settle,
as quiet as the petals shedding their fuscia for
a sip of burgundy, as abundant as the leaves that
line the pockets of October with bronze and copper
coins, Autumn's whispers stumble into my soul,
raising the goosebumps of my perception so I may
perceive her season's subtlety and drink in the
cider of her love, a harvest for the senses
my mind gathers together a gentle furrow of words,
smooth and cool, her fingers untie cadences of
sugar and spice to drift through my chestnut hair,
imprinting me with her signature atmosphere
a sigh escapes my lips, ah I have never known
such comfort as that I
I built my home of willow sheaves and cottonwood,
and scattered topaz stones along the path that sighs
up to my door, the reclining light of an amber Sky
I fashioned to my windows, overlooking an azure pond
quietly dreaming, softly breathing a season beyond
Summer's gossip, Twilight scents catch in the shoals
and mingle with the leaves that the trees had thrown
aside, the Wind tosses these brittle tawny curls
in the air, Autumn is but a whisper that unfurls
my soul, in colors that warm me with their gentle beguile,
I hush my hurt until again I can haunt a smile,
and retreat to my special place where I built my Autumn Home.
September 26, 2012
Seems a high blunt taste
Seems a beautiful waste
Such an elegant shade
Why is it to fade?
Ribs so grey made?
Cities blind in chase
Pictures greased to phrase
Just as the cloudy air planes that soar above
Once playful raindrops, now gloomy love
Off painted scapes they shove
Colors in history glowed childishly
Every tint of earth poured meaningfully
Eyes to see beyond what is to be seen
Textures and radiance never better then what could have been
Pinnacle in the canvas of the wind so lean
Glass works sculpted of broken diamonds too keen
Else Heaven bend to re-imagine