Precious Marble Days

Dark days.

Black granite days, marbled with tiny flecks.

Flashes of precious light.

Light in a velvet smooth darkness.

Innumerable days.

But days eclipsed,

by light days.

The flecks blanching the black.

Turning granite days into

White marble days.

Blinding, shimmering.

Precious days of light.

And for a few turns of the hand,

Granite hardly existed.

Only as threads of grey,

In fleeting,

pure alabaster marble moments.

Flashes that will stay,

To ignite the soul when

Granite days return.

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Author: neleni63

A fifty something pondering stuff...

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