Fringe Motion

Round and round. Repetition flickers past to present. Brilliance seeks shadow to screen, space for distance. Smoke occludes warmth, a dripping heart of wax. Eyes burn, pain smolders.

Spoke and wheel. Barriers go up. A blonde waits in darkness, watching yet longing. Wanting to be unseen.

Everything is motion. Ravels billow away, skirting the fringe. A passage must leave its wake. Knowing without understanding, her secrets slowly unfolding. No model for the puzzle, inward shards always remain felt, hidden.

Wheel and motion. Time’s pace rolls downhill unrelenting. Each beautiful, dazzling morning surely meets its night. Light or dark, love sees.


Picture is copyright by Kevin N. Murphy.

 

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