Saturday, October 29, 2011

the sound of moonlight
calm mind
a rush of sparks
along the spine
thin, one walks the line
a sense of elevation
white snow-topped peaks
cold, but without the bite
there is no flight
the wings, there are none
autumn is over, its spring
a color of pale white
cold hands,
cold reflections,
yet,
color in your cheeks
warmth somewhere inside
where is it?
there is no pain
a mystery.
beams of silver
penetrate beneath
layers of tension
a black and white image
this music,
it vibrates,
the leaves rustle
as well
a whispering wind,
in shades of gray...
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