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Mar 2014
The edge of the horizon sends
its edge extending, never ledge nor end
where it should cease and dip
beyond the lip of the blue ring

Beyond the lips of summer nights
that slip themselves in dark delight
between the slits
of shivering venetian blinds
that draw at dawn when

edges that forever flight above,
beyond, out past where sight
draws light into its final Form
where only there anew it's born
Zajan Akia
Written by
Zajan Akia  Long Island, NY
(Long Island, NY)   
500
   Mrs White Ace
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