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Description
A rifle round fired into the sky--
the shot rings out over the vast
plains, undeterred, signaling the
accidental damage--a sore cloud,
greyed with age, relives memories
of its virgin days, then falls
with an inaudible cough.  The scene
registers not as a sequence--
this moment is anything but cinematic,
the whole of the murder enveloped
in a deafening crash.
Heartbeats and idle breaths pause,
letting the moment hang, the last
gasp before a sickening plunge,
the whistling of a dropping bomb,
the kiss before the deepest tragedy.
A wall of droplets suspended
in thick air, glistening before
the sunlight dies.
Can you see it?  This instant
where the heavens are laid bare,
casting away the sky's matte cloak
to reveal its pure naked body,
untouched, beckoning towards
trembling, watering eyes--know, now,
that beauty lives in pulses,
a perpetual cycle of attack and retreat,
sliding in and out of view--know
that the static soon becomes tired stone,
that motion gives rise to life,
that a fleeting memory captured
will soon wither and die.  Tear off
your wool coat and dark shoes!
Walk barefoot in the downpour!
Feel the crying lances sting away
your corrupt mask!  Forget yourself!
Yes, and remember yourself.

Description
A rifle round fired into the sky--
the shot rings out over the vast
plains, undeterred, signaling the
accidental damage--a sore cloud,
greyed with age, relives memories
of its virgin days, then falls
with an inaudible cough.  The scene
registers not as a sequence--
this moment is anything but cinematic,
the whole of the murder enveloped
in a deafening crash.
Heartbeats and idle breaths pause,
letting the moment hang, the last
gasp before a sickening plunge,
the whistling of a dropping bomb,
the kiss before the deepest tragedy.
A wall of droplets suspended
in thick air, glistening before
the sunlight dies.
Can you see it?  This instant
where the heavens are laid bare,
casting away the sky's matte cloak
to reveal its pure naked body,
untouched, beckoning towards
trembling, watering eyes--know, now,
that beauty lives in pulses,
a perpetual cycle of attack and retreat,
sliding in and out of view--know
that the static soon becomes tired stone,
that motion gives rise to life,
that a fleeting memory captured
will soon wither and die.  Tear off
your wool coat and dark shoes!
Walk barefoot in the downpour!
Feel the crying lances sting away
your corrupt mask!  Forget yourself!
Yes, and remember yourself.