She a beauty, it’s said,
a progeny that’s high bred,
hiding between sharpened angles,
within windowless hallways as silence narrows.
Inhabiting space amid glow closest to shadow,
an impetus universe obscuring the unhallow.
Somewhere; spirits seize a soul in flight,
and perception’s continuum to provocative sight.
A trek expelling obscurities into saturated sunlight,
With impediments in the moon; she must fight.
And there are those,
creatures in walls always trying to forestall.
As a cathedral dome echoes her stride,
on cobble stone, lay atop fermented lye.
A thoroughfare so to speak,
and gateway to the sunrise she must seek.
She dances crossways amongst filtered silhouettes,
cast in darkened corners along this precarious quest.
Each step restrained onto the next,
towards a courtyard where music projects.
And after eons; it seems.
She arrives to the opening in dreams.
Never once did she turn her head,
unzipped the moment, walking on instead.
Diana Mary Sharpton © 2014 all rights reserved
1) Photography: Carmilla. http://www.pinterest.com/pin/314477986451228309/