Silken Tendrils of Smoke

Thoughts of you float in my head like
Silken tendrils of smoke.
Almost too beautiful to behold,
Like Dark Angels' wings.

If I could reach my hand inside my head
And close my fist around Thought....
I would pull out the faint scent of
Deep wood burn,
A light sting in my eyes,
Smeared ash dragging 'cross my finger-tips.

Each of these things are you,
In their way:
Aspects, Metaphor,
Memory of a Memory.

But they are not you.

My fist opens,
My fingers uncurl,
My palm is empty.

I am simply unable to grasp
Thoughts of you,
Those silken tendrils of smoke;
The smoldering incense
of my Mind's Fire.
After Dark Tales                     Hyperion Empire