Spectrums

I dream in rainbow dawns,

my eyes slip behind prisms,

darkness befalls as a kaleidoscope,

alone, the mysteries of my thoughts

unfold as neon ribbons,

they tie the night as a lucid bow.

 

No one brings scissors

until the morning,

on the floor in my mind

are left the glowing pieces.

 

But the stick to my heart

as the luminous litter

of illumined transcendence,

while I pass from lethargy

to revival.

 

And in the shades of the sun

there flares those hues

left over from my pillow,

then I see

among the tombs of gazes

what love was truly meant to shine

and why fireworks should scream.