Pearlescent,
a void of ashes
begging to be filled.
Dust unseen,
empty sunlight
cascading in falls.
Mind of the landscape fogged,
its ambiguities set aflame
by the altars
of wild hearths springing up across its body.
Diaphonous,
a sash of grey worn by the matron
to protect her blazing gems
from the controlling and the curious.
Conjunction of a fiery cross
with a monolith of mud and water
spawning hexagonal acolytes
to devour the uncertain loam:
printing minerals into a matchbook
filled with gunpowder,
pollen, and parchment.
Change smelted in the skies,
written in blurry evanescence
and scribed by lilies.
Stand on the summit;
taste indeterminacy
of the bright haze.
Then with a blink, a nod,
and a knowing gaze,
tell us what she says.
@d-pend