one
transparent life
seven different days
each painted bright
differently dyed by frequencies
playing out their maverick designs
against the music of the spheres
as a master draftsman
I wouldn’t count on them to name themselves
if not for the tide of darkness:
Night
ingenious apostate
it helps me separate and identify them
then
consciously
immerse myself in a current of Saturdays through Fridays
Night
magically washes the seven days down
sees off colorful
laud
waves of them
into a translucent spectacle of the Past
my body and mind often yearn for
still
at the back of my head
there is longing for a tide of light
single
never-ending day made from an infinite fabric
not a slave to the procession in Time
the hard-to-name day
painted as bright
as different
that will not drown in darkness:
Salvation