Previously Published in Versed.
https://versedcommunity.mn.co/
The supple darkness sucks the dawning bleach
And lavender succumbs to wounds of pink
In healing lightening — rosefire of the breath
As into sky the eye of heaven sinks
Up, up, as in to Grace of Spirit’s womb.
Although I mourn the moon already I
Embrace the fury yet to come —
The blinding light, the ever-suffering sky.
And still I gaze, devouring deep within
Each longing pore the bath of every light
And, more, each every shadow filling in
This space which makes this morning of the night,
And settle like the lawn my aching soul,
A mercy letting parts compose a whole.
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