As/Is







4.15.2006


Vigil

You arise,
low morning light,
frail-webbed winged,

thin boned-

the night
behind you,
dark halo-ed

corona;

a body
and its only gift-
mortal ash-brown

slumbering.

This eye
fills the room,
a million emptied

stars...

long world,
every hour
glowing infinite

waking.