splatter of leaves in stuttered colors
as the pendulum swung,
from nadir to zenith.
Rushed by vectors of joy,
a snapshot cyclone caved the bridge
only to raise it anew,
astray, yet cognizant.
Lifted the lid, in ache,
to the obsidian blade, wrought red,
smitten by the sun
before a perfect dawn.
And the child laughed,
his pearl mouth, straight from a scripture,
while darkness, amoebic, snug in,
like a pet, in his warm absence.
Within the morning gleam,
blood seeped through his feather crown,
along the scaly coils,
for dust to coalesce.
It took seasons in seconds
to remember the myth I never forgot;
and throughout the confines,
sleepless chains shook.
You whispered it gently,
in dual incarnations, guiding light azure,
thus, infernal and tender,
I will rest in awe.
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