Love Flies First

She shone upon her entrance,
a light of fainting hue.
A dear winged bird of divine reflection,
eyes tear as brilliancy consumes.

As she glides, soaring sails above me,
I was sure I'd see her shadow slide,
so far away
as she kept flying,
and of my eyes,
they'd need no drying.

This friend of feather,
so creatively pristine,
lands and rests as ritual
for care taking inspecting each hallowed wing.
Her song, so stirs my self, inspired,
Naive imaginings of mine desired.

At last for now or longer yet,
we shared one body;
Soul.
Our song, I feel
Could. It Could
Once grasped and of our making,
Whole

Her dazzling light upon me glared,
showing ahead an unseen place,
of too many pieces to be fitting,
Now, an image of glowing peace,
no longer left unsolved.

Just as dawn of the whole was glimpsed as just,
her perfect wings stirred up the dust,
The specks of clouded sight inhaled choked me.
The falling glittered ash into my eyes blown, blinds.
Wondrous, rare and painted wings blew free,
As soon as it was again her pale shadow shortened,

and slid away from me,

so low,

No longer dry I barely could, in shattering voice and whole cry,

"Don't go..."

I know what I knew before,
many brilliant feathers, soft, she wore.
The dim light I inhabit now,
absent of songs and princely bows.
I needn't a one of any grand gestured polished word.
I ache in pieces for my bird.