Morning seeps in gently thru
the blinking slits.
Daylight wash over as the mind
tries to rub its eyes awake.
Dreams retreat across the waters of
consciousness on stilts.
Takes a moment to retrieve the
dagger driven deep to its hilt.
(silence)
The Self, she stirs,
but ever so slightly.
She sleeps snugly
with wings of reason
wrapped around tightly.
Deceptively quietly.
Presumably quite lightly.
Until the mighty Sun gains supremacy
over the bleeding sky and resumes the legacy.
(then only)
She unfurls her brilliant wings
like an exploding Chrysanthemum
inside the waking mind.
Inspiring the soul to sing
like a fractal bird to enlighten every
darkened void she can find.
She ascends.
Gripping the hopeful heart in her clutches.
She ascends.
Giving wings to everything she touches.
Azlym06122011
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