Mighty grey beast Of the royal blue sky
flexing with all your flash and color,
Stealing the crystal prism from the king,
you try to run off with his noble robe.
A single manifestation of the noble place
acting as if you do, when you are being done.
You live with all the thunder of your maker
And yet subtly fear the return home.
You rage on into the late hours of night,
engaging senses of everything you meet.
Your temporal form holds an open space
For awe striking light to seep through.
When the sky draws you back in like a breath
I bet they will all write stories about you,
Remembering the feelings you would pull
From their dormant chests, remembering
How you lived brightly in that moment
While they boarded up windows and doors.
Hiding from the beauty of your light
Hiding from the beauty of their own light.
– jeffrey vionito