A singular halo grip
in a detailed and new space dust world
as I attempt to catch every note
lost pieces of a mosaic tapestry pool
til the breeze ascends and makes me proud
every lamp counts
then nothing
a defined pitch to frame the day
a solemn frown to scale and despoil
the total work of the collective master builders of our thoughts
our enlivened wires coated strong
new visions sheltered from the howl
Nicholas Peart
Written 2020-21
(c)All Rights Reserved
Image: kasabubu
META MAGMA STREAMS 