A delirium of golden fractures

What is it but a rose opening

where in the clouds there rests a silence on the brink of rain

and just at that moment when …

when the air settles

when the scent

the fragrance

the passion

calms and drifts

just then

just then

a beginning

a magic

a feeling becomes more than a feeling

when inside you there is a whisper building into a snowstorm into an avalanche

into a frenzy of petals flying in the breeze

and there upon one of these petals

there rides a tiny tiny creature

a creature of impossible theatricality, of tantalizing electricity

of sublime creativity waiting for you to hear its song

waiting for you to imagine it into a reality which resides within your imagination

waiting for you to think of what this creature looks like

and so from within you there births a seed ready to deliquesce

and so rise on thermals of light and so become more than itself

in which a delirium of golden fractures

become brave enough to explode upon the page, upon the canvas, upon the world

and so a rose opens

and it is beautiful

~