A composer
of the stars,
& astronaut
of dreams,
the unsung
swan of the
night, who
draws the
paintings
of her
thoughts,
the clouds
of dandelions
fields forever
in reverie,
her sigh settles
the seas of
lilac dreams,
as music
plays, she
enjoys the
indigo hues
of a bohemian
way of life,
and every
person
on this
earth is,
in their own
way, an
eccentric
of their
own hue,
upon the
painting of
life in the
microcosmos
to the lights
beyond, one
possesses
the traveler
in the chest,
a seeker of
the secret,
unrevealed
revelations,
a hidden
lover of
truth,
a flower
always
in perpetual
rebirth,
the secret
dancer
of the
night,
musing
upon the
wisdom
of how
every
human
holds the
aubade
within the
intricacy
of their
silver
scales,
in the
deeper
tides
of eyes
meeting
to become
one in the
balladry
of being
within each
other’s gaze,
for eyes reveal
the drifters,
who sail in
the ocean
of words
and catch
her star-dew,
where she
hears the
hidden,
secluded
symphonies,
they reveal
the lights
of their
own as
time, the
mysterious
one, flows
her fabric
and they
grow closer
to one, she
watches
upon them
unfolding,
as she
opens
her wings,
they close
their eyes,
when two
had once
seeked
to be other
than the
truth of self,
from their
chests are
opening
butterflies,
they awaken
in their
cocoon,
awaiting
the voyage
to the
moon,
the poet
sits by his
window,
and softly
sung “all of
what the
eyes see
in bloom
is poetry”
