My life’s but
a light-lick,
glimmer, sputter 
and finish:
Like a mayfly
from my dawning
to dusk.
A gush of silt;
one, short glow,

So,
teach me 
to shine-fly and not 
wane away,
(moon-bound). 
Beckon me blue-ward,
airborne and
billowed in 
Son-Shock.

Plateau my doubts.

Lift my spirit-lids, 
raise me from my 
sticky soulscape-
my heart-set 
turned to
spirit-lustre 
and reeking of 
holiness.