The sky forms its light
in the hemlock blues
of a silent rhetoric
a phrasing of calm
shaping me in
adjacent longings
where I am caught
in its nascent facts
in scrolls of wringing
sacred moments borne
by the glance of your eyes
forming like a gallica rose
from the garden spark of
inherent memory,
orbs of carried light
motioning me to a place
unknown yet known to us
free of this Earth’s marriage
to loneliness, baled
in echoes of
its effervescence,
an embayment in blue,
its ordinate shown
by the depths of your song
singing in calculations,
the Arc and Flame of you –
_____________________________
© K. James Ribble
Thespian Drummer 
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