The line was firm
Painted ebony thick
Striated and distressed
Then stretched thin
By millions of bare feet
Shuffling off to sleep
In this phantom life
Where colors blur
And shades are drawn
Thick against the night
This avalanche of sighs
Twisted against itself
Waiting for strength
A straightness of form
This black upon black
With nothing to contrast
But hopes and dreams
And time in sections
Stolen and tucked away
Painted once again
By a seamless wind
Smudged in places
But a stunning whole
Darkly shimmering
Under a moonlit sky.
Sam