Withe shattered light the first morning comes
heralding renewal
night time spent
wandering the nomadic streets of
a dusty mountain village
and finding in the deep volcanic lake of blue
the eyes of our love
shinning in the moon

here where the end of jasmine vines
curl lazy over the mirrored sky
and the stars are like escalators
tiny columns of twinkle
between two shades of blue
and three floating mountains
thin rings of lightning
spiral between us