Polarity
A comet weeps a crown of velvet frost,
While iron mountains bow to touch the sea;
What one forgets, the other finds as lost,
A solitary echo, wild and free.
The dark is but a curtain made of gold,
That we must draw to let the midnight spill;
The young will wander, while the path is old,
And noise becomes the architect of still.
We drink the lightning from an empty sky,
And breathe the perfume of a shattered stone.
To reach the ground, we must begin to fly,
To find the crowd, we walk within the bone.
For every shadow kneeling in the light,
There is a sunbeam hiding in the gray.
The winter dreams of blossoms in the night,
And dawn is just a prisoner of day.
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