Tears of pure ecstasy resting on shards of verdant satin,
Rolling into the innermost folds of the brightest dawn
And the gentlest sunrise,
Bergamot and honey.
In a violent fit, the crystalline mass molds into
Thin skeins of wire-
At the most delicate of heartstrings.
Slices, cut shallowly by traitorous garnet,
Threaten the broken pigment of faith-
Outlined in immeasurable heat.
Blisters crop, melting once supple flesh
Into diamond, beautifully maddened.
“‘Madness next to godliness,’ they say-”
The purest luminescence taking its last stand in
A contrasting war,
Painting all darkness in preserving hope.
Swaths of joy, dyed with cerulean skies,
Drift onto banks of soft reassurance.
All is calm.