From time that creased

I arrived here late and at dark hours –

Or from hours darkly cloaked in dense
fatigues, of the colour of clouds that
not even the sky wants to wear anymore.
Fatigues drawn low over the brow, like hoods -
making me frown, and my thoughts, under their shadows;

The weight of shadows, creasing the lightness of clarities,
of lucidity, to the almost impossible –

Almost impossible to see, be touched, through
so many creases.

But there was still the “almost”; and the “almost”
became time to let the weight crease itself completely.

I emerged from it in naked, smooth hours -
as soft as skin that wakes up early, for the pleasure
of continuing to dream as if each pore were doing it
from the beginning;

Beginning now - all pink and tingling, to the vision
as to the touch…

© 2007 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*®