Gliding easy cross thick pillowed sky,
Bleeds rays of shunned light down.
Candle bright to wash inside an empty eye,
Life’s other side, not of day, new rules apply.
Inside out, the underside, sleep now awoken.


What dances here amongst shards of gloom,
Makes merry or whatever does unseen,
Sept in afterthoughts replayed,
Stitched patterns later somewhat clearer.
Blotted spectrum sucked clean of rich juice sipped, absorbed.
We bathe in her discarded rays,
The splashes and the overspray, the residue rejected.


What is the chemistry, an alchemy of filtered energies,
That play upon a world not of its making.
How on this stage acts out a different play, of night.
These images perform, not sing the tune of day.
To drink from this distilled cup who’s potion is unknown,
What purpose, effects, or consequence unfold.


The fruit of night blossoms in silver rays or sometimes not,
As the cycle dictates with clockwork regularity.
Ambience of vantage point plays host to meaning,
Falling on the petals of inner bloom that turn to bask.
Soak up the rays, nurture fruit and seeds to cast upon a breeze,
Take root not in soil or mineral earth but nurtured in another place.

01 X 14,  PBG