Clouds had refused to part.
A fractured moon was walking in dismay
stroking the gazing stars.
Cornwhite belonging of ashes was to fire,
beloved sky was enchanted with water ceremony
as a sign of gratitude to earth.
The wind decided to reverse the clock
and navigate in trees of waxing summer
blowing yellow crystals of sulphur.
A red admiral lands on a lone marigold with detachment,
surveys pollen, pie-eyed, dangles, tilting a nod,
emerges for another sortie.
If there was an action, I think in between:
live with it in fire of mind.
The voyage begins when the song of eternity starts.