shattering pieces of the twilight
slowly cascade on to the plain.
filling the deepest of streams,
filling the deepest of dreams.

as the water smolders,
you can see the tears running
down it's face.
they boil in the black firepits.

Floating pieces of delicacy,
the butterfly, unnasuming,
streaks into the flames-
yet does not char.
the black carbon release
is overpowered by white candecance.

and thse ashes lazily fly.
with no direction,
the wind mothers them to
whatever home it sees fit.

the insects crowd around the
horizon line,
mingling kindly with holiday lights
and the stars in the sky.

Yet this beauty, it has temper.
the dreams of a child,
erupt in screams as the poison
is injected with a fright.
he will walk in swollen pain tonight...

but the sting, it is sucked away by
tales of enchantment, as they
illuminate the floor of the sky with
auroraborealis
fallen to the ground.

tanned skin and white hair,
the leaves thank the sun for their
unique complexion-
baked into morsels of delight
swarmed with repugnance
and disgust.

a winter night can come
from the most modest of
picturesque beginnings,
but the colors will shine through
in a black and white photograph-

04/11/2003

Author's Note: a rewrite of 'a look into obscurity' by sarah loreth.

Posted on 04/12/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams