Mountain air conditioning.
Lunar night light illumination,
Open meadow bedding.
Architecture, stony pillars, wooden eaves.
Amenities of nature, running water, ceiling leaves.
The night is deep the light creeps in I fight sleep.
And then the light show begins,
As the night slowly ends.
Neon turns to gold.
Orion's fires turn cold.
Then clouds once silver spires,
Touch Orion's furnace fire.
Turn to blazing thunder heads.
Burning violent violets, raging reds.
Like molten metal with an ocean mantle.
It is cast and yields, at last cold blue steel.
With silver wisps of steam.
And I wonder lost in the dream.
As Orion lifts the shield,
Heaven and his form are concealed.
Concealed in new cold smelted smoldering metal blue.
Silenced in the violence.
Entranced by the ambiance.
Somewhere in between.
Reality and fantasy.
Imaginations and perceptions.
A mind chained to the scene and one finally set free.
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