light (angel)

angel

Doors opened in light.

Light arrowed

to winged promises

of flight.

Floating.

Falling.

Rising.

By this illusion of paint

and light

beacons are ignited.

Old desires,

not yet too rained upon

to catch a spark,

burn, fierce flaming

for my remembered

fallen angel.

They are not all

as they appear to be,

the angelic ones.

Some wear paper wings

easily dissolved by tears and time

or ashed by fires of passion.

Some wear cardboard halos,

pinned carelessly to fragrant hair,

creased and crushed by kisses.

She was not at all

as she appeared to be,

my angel.

Her moonlit votive

melted in the sun

blistering the heart

with burning tongues of wax.

Her skin absolved mine

with scents of white lilies.

Her fingertips traced

ecstatic ascensions to heaven.

Her miraculous eyes,

a mirage of turquoise lakes

in an empty desert,

blinded all seeing

like god at high noon.

Photo and poem by clinock.

called again to the gate

at the gate

called again to the gate

the door

the mirrored self

the mirage

the shimmering

silent veil

the mystery

waiting for a sign

yesterday

skies remained

closed

unaligned

empty

today

something

shimmering

out of the blue

beyond the gate

the door

the reflection

the mirage

the silent veil

a shimmering voice

an invitation

to dance

the mystery

maybe

an empty

shell

singing illusions

of oceans

maybe

waiting for a sign

before making

an entrance

into another

shimmering unknown

 

Painting and poem by clinock.

Painting: 11″ x 15″. acrylic on paper.