On The Path
Glitter paint gold
The pebbles and call them nuggets.
Toss them in,
Then wait.
See them: a diluted recipe
Of foreign angels traipsing
About their sunny business.
Hard to grasp?
Even harder to hold.
Deep,
Subterranean are my thoughts,
Circling,
Lost in the current.
Lambent fish floating through
A pool of cold will school together
Eventually.
Let them flow.
Quietly now.
Look…
There they are.
Just below the surface.
I must be swift.
These cheapened muses
Turned out near-mint from Heaven
Will ferment in my hand.
In the tips of the phalanges.
I will strike the page like
Phosphorous in a lonely cavern.
Then, we will see.
We will see.