caged sun:

Blue light,

thin fog.

I am the twilight.

Laid on the autopsy table.

A galaxy behind a gate.

The lace was woven starlight.

Hung in the air like breath.

They said it was a prayer,

I wonder what gave it form.

Quicksilver,

footfalls from a god lost to time.

They left pin pricks of light,

tracing their journey on the sky.

Which step of their journey

marked your birth?

I need a new favorite sign.