The Disappearing Peacock

Drawn in

to the crystalline

miracle,

I died,

I died with the earth.

My mind whispered

truth

on frozen plume

after frozen plume

of breath,

the disappearing peacock,

brilliant feathers,

half-formed faces,

a visible mystery,

gone,

like my aspirations,

replaced,

by the certainty

of unfolding

time.

I know

it won't be long now,

I know.

I give my

self

willingly

to an end

without fear

or regret.

I know.

I died.

I died with the earth.

But the seeds

I planted

remain,

in peaceful

slumber,

dreaming

the hopeful

dreams

of innocence

which are the sole

blessed

consolation

of the burgeoning

unborn.