A Question of Flower Light
With ferocious blue-shift, the breath
of ghost flowers lights the night
with an eternity of dazzle,
the fire-magic of before time
carried in vast-voiced song
measured in infinite heartbeats, drifts. . .
and if we survive the shadows,
will we wonder why we didn’t cherish this light
that lingers like smoke, like a kiss, like a laugh remembered?
My poem from the Oracle. It took some work today, and the first attempt before my morning walk was much darker. 😏