Facing The Gravity of Death (Bitter-Sweet)

Raven-black,

its shadow;

sorrow stains

the cyan sea.

Night’s

guillotine and gallow

drink her,

bitter,

in the eve.

With hollow depths

laid bare

beneath

the watercolor skies,

fresh wells

and saline

pair:

the sun sets,

mirrored,

in her eyes.

Day’s palette’s

pigments dress

her shallow image

in serene —

like putty,

stretched to press

ink:

heaven’s

graphic novel scene.

Oil paints,

though separated,

changing water into wine —

tomorrow,

hyphenated

with the

spirit of divine.

****

photo credit: tea rose photography