Lurking through the last particles of a storm cloud
the full moon suddenly opens
its silver circled conducive horizon wide out
stepping into a golden memory of iridescence;
Glow moves me and I follow
the skirts of old, grown lilac fields edged.
Oh, I know that smell, smell that leads to the nacreous evanescence;
Shall I wake up and cross our earthly bind
to surrender all ties to the touch of ethereal tide?
Shall I step one more time on the crystalline salt of heart’s night
and petrified feelings with a hard-rock groove filled with light
of a known soul refrain
slightly slanted with soft piano jazzy solo jam
soaked in some old, repressed pain
that I can’t get rid off it or truly explain?
It’s all over again–
the same overkill,
the same overfill,
if I can only abstain
from the whippoorwills refrain
and their nightly exalted extremes
that hush me between feathers of lucid dreams.

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