Dawn's Survival

Powering the hours
of an inspiration so divine,
that time is stopped within a space,
and flies beyond the ordinary
spans a mind can freely understand;
catching wispy mists unfurling
this, the crux of all invisibility.

How many cells of living flesh
are left to be expressed
to those who think themselves
both protected and imprisoned
by the bonds and bounds
of cells that take them
only to a place of all alone,
to bring the unity of this
enlightenment streaming through
all minds and hearts and souls?

Nearly here, it pauses,
once again in reverie,
remembering a myriad of tales
never told and yet experienced,
advertised, for sale, in tones
of golden artistry, to sculpt
this beauty into forms
of lifeless mimicry.

Black velvet days unfold themselves,
calling out of their containment,
discharging grand emotive mystery;
even as all secrecy is wept within
those tears of utter insolence
once wept within an innocence divine.
Unknowingly, they power those hours
that could be of new creation.

As white on white, the light ascends
again into the source of all oblivion,
that void they drive their hearts
and souls into, mere patterns
that their haunted minds
conceive as all reality;
yet leaving in its wake,
alive and glowingly surreal
a haunting feel of love
that's meant to be.
And here, the many hues
of dawn's survival
still live on . . .


Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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