The footsteps of one voice, impressions made
Upon the crown of worlds we are and not
Familiar. A voice asphyxiated now
By God’s eternal rest, the steps scrubed,
All evidence of past existence void.
The algid night warmed by sunset’s palette.
Coastland is cast aside in the gloom and cold,
Of winters bite and scratch that seeps inside.
The sands of Time and Shore joined silent by
Invisible mortar, like by magnets choice.
Frost sways and rocks above the muted town,
Then turns descending swift as kites retreat.
The waves verbosely lap along the shore,
Companion’s creased hand pulses mine with life.
My poignant awareness of being paused,
By sight of the delicate form of a
Butterfly lying in the sand so still.
Beholding her, the small shell of one life,
Whose wings so perfect, eerie and intact.
My pulsing hand held the laconic frame
Of life whose soul had fled to greater heights.
So great its beauty and so great my awe,
That felt I a vivid urge to lift mine eyes
To sky so vast, to heaven far away.