a solemn soul
sits upon the sands
tracing her slender spine
a tenderly once kissed neckline
smooth curves appear upon
sun-soaked granules
teasing out the features
that he thought lost
but fingers deftly recreate
upon a canvas grainy-fine
the ocean rushes to erase
the moment of recognition
i see too much…
too sharply, strongly
too vividly, viciously
i miss the light…
not chemical, not electrical
not that cruel piercing imperfection revealing lit object.
why not some dimness…?
some smoothness…
some dark to wrap around softly but not at all lessen…
some thing hidden…
some thing saved…
some thing for one to know and one to find out…
let the light be created,
let it slowly fade the light-maker
let it lick, slide, drip, drop, fall, fly and burn…
let it leave a trace as all living things do…
let it spark, grow, flame, flicker, falter…
let it live and as all, let it leave.
intotheindigo 