Is it one time when have I not seen things any better in my view. Must it chisel my heart out for was remembrance so intact in my veins for you;
Is it one hour, one such hour, when seemed nothing any more beautiful than how lucent the moon oft is - oh you know that, don't you?;
Was it an inception of such a dusk... alas! It was! Oh it was, it was!
Why, amidst the imminent grey of the stratus, the pallor of the nimbus still had its visage above my head and did I spectate.
I did spectate with eyes not wide open, but drowsy yet awake, with my arms warm but hands so cold to touch, just one pinch on my nape and no ache inside my body.
Holy Lord! 'Twas a sensation - sparkling but, ecstatic.
'Twas a feeling - palpable, but recognisable.
Oh! Was it a taste moreish, but not on my plate.
Where did it go when had my eyes transfixed? Or did I lose my sight to the china of the palette on which was etched two grubby and inky thumbs of a painter who must have sketched the silhouette of his beloved then? Was the latter a painting there, a palimpsest of a faded photograph abruptly found on the corner of my alleyway I walked.
I walked down that road, and I sauntered on the right, I sauntered on the left, the lights of mountain bikes just streetlights of a montage of colors in my eyes.
And your laugh is as bright as the sun...
In rhyme, whispering, breezing...
Then sensed the skin of my bare toes a cold hand was that wet too, but inclement.
God! It was colder then.
Then there a headlight. Then there some sallow flicker on the sienna of the lane of my residence. And then there the spotlight.
The green of the foliage shone in a soft yellow shower.
The leaves, they danced and moved with their pedicels with the cold zephyr's million little kisses.
'Twas to sight of everyone who saw it. But mine, not so. Oh, not so my dear for was I high in the moment.
Saw I the tiny thistles of the green leaves, shattered on the cold and brown soil of the Earth I too stood on. And they composed a spectacle for me to see quite visibly for even a blind man's sight to capture and be just as well mesmerized.
What a hypnosis! Was it that?
The thistles, "soft" I thought without a touch, "dry" I thought without a touch, "dehiscent" I thought without a touch.
The porch of my neighbour next door strewn with them -
Do you see? Were they lighted by the lambent light of two headlights.
They were shards of a piece of colored glass - blue, white, tangerine, cerise and turquoise.
What did I see? oh, what on Earth!
Tell me, can you?
What did I see?
I am only closing my eyes now.
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