Nathaniel Eliot (temujin9) wrote,
Nathaniel Eliot
temujin9

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Feathers Afire

A virtual stranger I know,
from a land outside of time,
lost his love in some fiasco.

In trying to comfort him,
in that shared pain
that your fallen saint so loved,
my time machine slides back
to side streams always open,
but never fully reached.

I speak to (and for) no spirits,
hold no love for the glowing aether:
give me real ground and sky instead.

And yet I find myself
sharing pain with you there,
and am shakingly glad to find
that your grace has,
if not a physical permanence,
an infectious quality.
Tags: writing
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