Molten mote of gold,
I see you.
past the orange filaments of lightning
cast from your centre, you weave
crimson laces through the cage of my ribs.
avatar of light tearing,
crying, lashing
I feel it in my chest,
this heat
this soundless clamor
My eyes are too wide,
your needle too fine
too brilliant.
I could not dream your form,
given a thousand years of sleep.
Yet deafly I hear you,
in the turning of my bones,
the swell and decay of my blood.
Molten mote of gold,
I see you.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
Molten mote of gold,
I see you.
past the orange filaments of lightning
cast from your centre, you weave
crimson laces through the cage of my ribs.
avatar of light tearing,
crying, lashing
I feel it in my chest,
this heat
this soundless clamor
My eyes are too wide,
your needle too fine
too brilliant.
I could not dream your form,
given a thousand years of sleep.
Yet deafly I hear you,
in the turning of my bones,
the swell and decay of my blood.
Molten mote of gold,
I see you.
