finale of thunderous

Hyacinth garden

so begins, this journey . . .

the only poem I keep coming back to
where My words do not spell out ideas
My indigenous silence is staggered

life is a trajectory, see My velocity
traveling through My waning fate
where I am My own pyrotechnics show

shoot Me up and up and up
only recently has the storied mix been twisted
unusual concentric comparisons focus on uncertainty
it is inadequate for poetic fireworks to imbue optimism

I am in those times of abandoned alphabets
I barely see My personal needs
unspoken words heat up as My collection unfolds
shrill are the whistling discharges see Me, I blaze away
true communication lies without articulation
and sometimes there are no substitutions
the unrestrained flight that operates between language
I live differently within the amber smoke and flashing light

now is the time for Me to play with the lights
in the greening red at the apex of position
I am assumed to be out of reach
My meaning feels like My poor-booming tongue of fire

after the finale of thunderous an explosive display
barely tethered to meaning, for I am surveying differently
as I join sound to light  
where invisibility makes the light change
and the billow of smoke clouds disappearing
where only fragments are before My eyes
drifting on winds, slowly pulled by gravity, back down

so end, this journey . . .

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Revisited and revised

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sanctus's picture

Good choice of words and

Good choice of words and images