a new work

Something so new...there is still breath in my lungs that I inhaled as I wrote it,

It is happening

It is happening.
I would not have believed the sky
capable of the transformation
as the stars appear in daylight
and night becomes a tapesty of comfort.
It is happening.
Riddles no longer regent fall apart
to scatter like the dried, dyed hearts
of those who stood apart from love,
so corrupted by this world's toxicity.
It is happening.
And I can see things that I only dreamt of,
light in eyes that shine like emerald stones
taught to lase like ruby rods
set in the face of Aphrodite, mighty.
It is happening.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.