ephemeral grace

Vague impressions of a dream, 

which seemed to hold such certain

clarity when it awakened me at 3,

emerge like subtle ghosts

within the fog of day,

entreating me to grasp

ahold.

 

How is it that such

assuredness, that feeling of complete

and utter comprehension in the dark, so vibrant

that it seems that one could jump

from bed to sing it,

(as if one finally understood the meaning of it all!)

can fade so in the light, diminished

into blind inanity.

 

I recall a harsh environment,

the bashed remains of a violent ice, perhaps

the broken shards of limbs, 

a dwelling crafted from those ruins,

not for survival or protection, but

rather for perfection, rugged,

with great sheets of transparency,

crystal windows, through which to see

the frozen beauty round about me.

 

I understood only that there was

something absolutely right and true about its sturdy structure.

and awakened almost laughing, the ‘yes’ of it so

much deeper than a sigh,

something more akin to joy.

 

I’d found the answer that I’d sought

but this afternoon, I wonder

what the question was?

 

 

 

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