Visage

Sometimes truth yanks me skyward to its natural parapet from which I view my life unfolding as a gossamer veil on drifting sanded limbs of lush toned beauty. This, not the shuttered hurt of the flood plain, is my birthright, one I've yet to fully embrace. Once I do, there is to be no stopping me from knowing what I know.

The first brush of immortality tastes like hyacinth.