I wrote purely on that night, so white,
with words in herds unheard, surely of light,
in humbled fright and delight at the source.
then, did I discover a man’s due course:
to lead the winds as water will with ice,
giving in to forms which never play nice,
ruthlessly reaching with force of all life,
so ready to break away or shatter
the unsuspecting and so fragile sights,
and so, upon itself then, for, they are one;
as when day turns true to the coming nights,
the pure gold and purple of setting suns!
may this then be: I here vow not to wow,
to share but not show (yet) now I know how—