Drunk On Opals (25-03-10)

Blinking array, a sheet of fractured quartz.
Eyes flicker dazed, limbs frail as blight.

I awake to a novel yet familiar sight—
Thin and sharp, yet soft to the touch,
Coarse and fine, like hand to brush.

In a spur, my pupils refine,
Colour spilling
From mundane to divine.
What once was hesitation, now opines—
Absurdly, I stare into sky.

Seawater emanates from every pore;
I sulk.

With a veil of carved disdain,
I often thought I could run away.
But now I must confess,
My heart feels illegitimate
Within every chest.

All sin washes away into cloud—
For I am just a rock in a crowd.
Am I estranged, unfairly berated?
Or was I truly altered by my own state?
I sulk.

With an unrelenting wave
Of love and compassion,
I fall flat on my back—
Drunk on opals, I must be.

I seem to forget
The small sort of passion
Lurking under every rock,
Hiding beside every tree.
I must remind myself—
Despite everything—
How beautiful it is
To be drunk on opals.