I felt pitch black then
Shimmering
Lit by an invisible
Tremulous light.
Where revelling
In the anonymity
Of life, lived at night
Words seemed too bare
And only gestures true.
Now, tan grey is in the mirror
The hue of canyons and mountains
I navigate
Waking early
Rocks still cool
To return
After the sun bakes them clear
Thinking, like those rocks
Time has shaped me.
So, I ask
Does it shimmer still?
The answer, finally
Yes
But the shimmer is
Of a worn river stone
Adorned occasionally
With sparking light
Water passing overhead.