The Moment

What will it be like? As riveting as a lighting strike? Despite the usual weather Without necessary odds to conquer My thoughts fling a montage of clues Atypical but not pompous I am not laced with frills yet graced with flaws Not a tableau of fairy-tale but even gravity would pause There’s no one else for you to impress You may take off your fancy visage, you’d dazzle me nonetheless In the quiet rapture of a celebratory revelation My atoms and yours will realign the stray stars— Our iridescent union