Turquoise under the moon

as stuttering seconds spontaneously erupt in every hue spatially entwined to even as I peer outwardly leeringly at fin-AL-ity clutching at my hearts rapture I don’t watch the bleeding martyrdom with eyes of sadness but the ephemeral beauty of birth and smiling motherhood expressing her happiness and love even in night’s lunar wakening the drama of that magic hour does not collapse spontaneously her soul is not red and fiery throwing flames and flashing light beams on waves of turquoise there progresses the fleeing shadows pushed by her dying breaths enlightened by providence and rebirth