The castle cut
a harsh stone figure
with the winds
of this icy winter
piercing its
outer layer
and winding its way
through deep
cavernous corridors
seeking candle created shadows
and forcing them to flicker
and dance.

Rapt waves of water moved
with the wind’s will as well
brushing up
against its base
then backing fast away.

I was the mayfly there
to observes such splendors.
My life, less than a day
in eternity
but I lived long enough
to gift these words to thee,
golden goddess
sweet guardian
of the flying castle
that finally fell
somewhere near
the heart of my
imagination.