I came from darkness with my eyes closed, now I open them to see.
Evening\'s frayed shadowy blanket, that was imperceptibly pulled over an emerald satin sheet of grass, rolls back like molasses.
With its unfolding, night awakens to the caress of sunlight\'s fingers, wiping away darkness\' dewy tears, clinging to reed eyelashes that frame a smoking watery glass eye of divination.
With the clearing mist, bubbling echos and the chittering of teeming life, reveal a mercurial pool, reflecting broken, spun, cobwebs of childhood dreams, sewn into pillowcase clouds, drifting on an upended sapphire sea of memories.
The evening\'s soot of sleep, swept away by radiant bristles of the sun\'s
broom, is tucked into the pockets of fading stars.
Here the inverted solar pendulum oscillates, swinging its refining forge to its peak, pouring molten gold from it\'s crucible.
Then, in its cooling arc of descent, to the horizon\'s sea, Helios donned in Heracles blood stained shirt, quenches the funeral pyre, leaving a sunset of fiery embers, from which he returns to an Olympian, warm, disheveled, death bed, dreamily, awaiting resurrection.
His repose reveals the hour when the stitching of the clouds are rent asunder, spilling, from those pockets of the milky way, the sparkling night\'s dust of imagination.