A Lasting Light

The withering is so very beautiful. Eyes build translucent shells for themselves. there is a falling inward, mouths move beneath appearance, Expressions of mortality falter, as the mind begins to see its own shallow reflections, an understanding, that all last breaths are a first kiss. Atrophy inwardly shapes its own chrysalis. Old man flowering in a thin soup of himself, a seasoned musk shaping iconic effigies, of youth and age. He rules the kingdom, of the winter moon Crone, touches her wilting lips, the movement seduces angels. A papery rose unfolds one more time, Decline revives her, with yet more weary wonders. The withering is so very beautiful. Light on evening water, a lake gleams, too deep to be crossed, by any ferryman, Night no longer lures beauty to turn away from its journey. Life walks itself, into a sublime uncertainty. A beauty arises, shorn of both fire or hope, mercy flares upon a crumbling edge. Revelations burn-on. At the center of an undefeated love, a path winds ever inward.