
Did you glance at it, wandering all nighttide on the charcoal stream?
Did you gaze at it in the dayblush, upsurging into the nebulous atmosphere—
A cluster of angel-wings,
An eye-catching pandemonium of jasmines curved into its astonishing wings,
Leaning deep into the vassalage of its ailerons;
A drifting snowstorm, a mound of lilies,
Biting at the air with its shadow-black beak?
Did you catch its music,
Fluting and whirling in a sharp, dusky rhythm—
Like rainfall rattling against the boughs,
Like a torrent carving its path down ink-dark stone?
And did you witness it at last, drifting just beneath the heavens—
A pale emblem sweeping across the sky, its feet
Fluttering like midnight leaves, its wings
Unfolding like light stretching along the river’s skin?
And did you feel it, quietly, inside your own chest—
How it belonged to everything around you?
Have you finally sensed what beauty is meant to awaken?
And has it shifted the way you move through your life?