In the night of purple murky clouds
that fell from heaven, a heavy haze
envelops the old palace, a velvet shroud
that blinds all but the keenest gaze.
Yet there atop the palace gates,
a spotlight sends out golden blades
to slice the velvet and spite its weight:
gleaming swords by brighter spirits made —
A signal to the clouds, return up high,
cast off their shroud and kiss the sky.
Jan 13, 2025
Jan 13, 2025 at 10:38 AM UTC
In the night of purple murky clouds
that fell from heaven, a heavy haze
envelops the old palace, a velvet shroud
that blinds all but the keenest gaze.
Yet there atop the palace gates,
a spotlight sends out golden blades
to slice the velvet and spite its weight:
gleaming swords by brighter spirits made —
A signal to the clouds, return up high,
cast off their shroud and kiss the sky.
Inspired by a photo I took in dark fog at night at Sanssouci Palace. (Yes, it’s a Hendrix reference.)