Dandelionlady
The frost on my windshield is intricate this morning
Like a Russian teahouse
The exhaust has become billowing clouds brought to earth
By some winged spirit
I could slip between the worlds on a morning like this
Fare forth on a journey to the land beyond the sun
Instead,
I am the world destroyer
Choosing which intricate, fractalized form must die
The harsh sound of the necessary removal of beauty
Do the survivors out of my reach mourn their brethren?
I could slip between the worlds on a morning like this
Fare forth on a journey to the land beyond the sun
Instead,
I am the world destroyer
Choosing which intricate, fractalized form must die
The harsh sound of the necessary removal of beauty
Do the survivors out of my reach mourn their brethren?
Sitting at the wheel, I see
The fragmentary ice patterns catch the sun for a moment
They become glowing, radiant golden stars
Then I turn right and they are gone.
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