O harbinger of creation,
What’s the secret to such sumptuousness?
You’re the querencia to every thing that lives
The reverence for you stays untouched
You’re as iridescent as two mirrors
Placed garishly facing each other;
Your luminosity puts to shame the stars,
And their crescent moon.
All of these sheens are evanescent,
The day will come for them to
Coalesce only to become
A fraction of your lustre.
The Barbaric Yawp 
Leave a comment