In this moment, have you found what you need, will you give yourself entirely to its appearance?
Do you see the Victors Light?
Lines streak across substance as though they have distinction, but they do not.
They are capped by the crescent of the moon.
The wind has blown through my mind ~ open, breezy ~ yet not free.
The storm it is stirring will need release.
Will you help me, perhaps guiding the storm safely away from purity, beauty, and the serene?
Industrial silk completely leaving the terminal while flowers and leaves settle in wax.
Gone, gone, it’s all gone.
Go ahead and put your coat back on.