A bubbling, welling surge of words

A trickling creek of sounds 

A soft drip of movement

A new hope, 

 

The first floating note of an unknown song

The sensual swell of a childhood symphony 

Creativity reborn, 

 

A smooth stroke of pink and orange across a sky of two suns

A glistening gaze searching for the more of tomorrow

Stars relit, 

 

The crisp cut of fresh ice beneath sharp blades

The soft sting of cold air in budding lungs 

Story retold,

 

Silence shatters

Penetrated by a spear of sound

A cry of hope, of light, of dark

The clash of a saber against past 

The burn of memories slipping through fingers too aged,

 

And yet, it grows, swells, crests,

The need

To take those memories tossing in the wind

To listen to the song dancing through air and soul

To touch the glistening red left behind by slicing ice,

 

And make them mine

For all to see.