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

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