pity bout the pitta

she without whom the cosmos could not breathe

came with flaming wheels roll through heaven on highest  love

and all about well i believe at least the spirits exulted in their exalting

the nightsky a’burst with orange sudden flare an ever red on crimson fire

her chariot yoked to seven great stallions all snorting in their fury

effulgence effervescing in her glorious wake she descends

her triumph so obvious at first it appears too vague to apprehend

a solar titan a colossal victory a darkening of the sky

in memoriam afternoons of dull and distant warmness

in ipso facto the way back to any eden

in the realm of conjecture where an inkling sits on the throne

in the fine print are the roughest words

in the rude jab of dawn as she shoots up the rain

let misery approach elsewhere you churls

let no calamity overtake us here again

life eventually numbs yes you may welcome it

life is insidious yet tenuous

i wonder

then

i sleep