“sparkling thing”

on cool nights, sweet warm stars fill my eyes…
and the raspy wind-swept voices echo deep in the chambers of my heart.
they flutter and palpitate to the rhythm of dark crushed leaves…
forming an unspoken sound, deeper than the souls of angels.
this is a weighty thing, though soft to the touch…
this is a sparkling thing, burnt from the ash of some far-flung space.
you may come calling…
but in the morning i will be gone,
back and alone in the drifting wood.
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari, 12/6/11

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2 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Linlinlex on December 7, 2011 at 2:50 pm

    Weighty but, soft to the touch explains this poem. Keep it up! I look forward to the checking daily. No pressure, my man, no pressure at all. 🙂

    Reply

  2. You are my first official comment on the new blog (which is my first blog ever). It really means a great deal to me. I won’t let you down. Thanks so much!

    Reply

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