a scintilla of light spied the dawn as if it was aided by a telescope which knew no name
an agent of light is his charge and carries a fragile lantern
as an ancient prophet long dead lights up the future
he stalks the land of exiles
he wanders the earth
the doors to perception are always ajar to such a man then close as the sky gathers up its dark cloak swirls it about his person for warmth then shutters the night like an autocrat
even stars drop like confetti
tranquil to the west sways a gentle vessel lapped by a single river tentacle of the sea as a black swan glides by
an ornament to creation
Flynnpoetry 