Lucid Ice Poem by For Matilde
Lucid Ice
It is not the feathered kiss
of wings spread against the night
the Archangel, the Beckoning
but an avalanche of memories
those then, those now
A spectral journey into myself
a flight over empty spaces
the Only Life, the Tide
the lifting of the eyes
sensuously lucid ice
Forsaken now
floating without limbs
silent then, silent now
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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4/18/2024 8:38:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
