Grace stares at the wind
Gathering the stars into her palms
With her intelligent silver eyes.
The nights turn from blue to black
I stare as well
Watching Grace stride
In her flowing white attire.
Her pale skin shimmering
In the light of the floating silken moon
Her soft golden hair almost glowing.
I lay there to admire the sight
Such a sight it is--
Like the rising sun
In a universe of galaxies
And a galaxy of stars.
Grace, my perfect shadow of well-being
Does not see me
And only stares blankly ahead
Already taken away from its life.
Those intelligent silver eyes
Do not even notice me.
My eyes turn from brown to black
And are shrouded with stars
Creating a universe.
My arms turn from the arms of a musician
To wings that soar.
I fly above Grace in my mind
My shallow little mind
Only growing more shallow
But I fly above her
To see the world and learn what there is.
My eyes are not the color of silver
My life is plain as a grassy field
But each feather on the wings of my mind
Adds to become the wing itself
My wing grows to become the wind
And the wind grows to become the stars.