Flight


Beneath the pitchy shroud
of evening's sky
obscured by the sylvan canopy,
Luna's light filters down,
luminescent moon-bubbles
of silver wine.
We walk.

Melodies of ambience
ride sweet breezes.
A prismatic symphony
of riotous color swirls
to the cadence of our hearts.
Velvet moss carpet
yields to our feet.
We dance.

Whirling twirling waltz
Hearts fuse, figures coalesce.
Dining on the spectral banquet of sound.
The sacred and profane
merge in passion's maelstrom,
ascend to ethereal heights.
So we Fly...

©1998 (Maelstrom Vol. I,  Issue VI )