I am the broken wing of a midnight moth
Burnt and ragged from the flame.
In that moment I cut the darkness.
Fluttering, parsing time, a delicate confusion.
Every blade of mid-summer grass hints of gravity,
as my formation, in spiraling arches,
tree bark to moon beams, a minuet with the shadows.
I am a wound that bleeds eternity
Blistered and scorched by beauty.
I have pierced the night.
I live on, I am absolute.