Paper Lantern.

If ever I stepped through the glass,
paper thin,
the darkly tinted mesh of
where I’m from and
what I’ve been,
I think it would tear
with ruffled seam;
me, a little flame within,
like a paper lantern,
seen;
the perforated edges
bloom’d,
with lick of tiny fire splayed,
a King’s face drawn
in shadowbox
against the wall of what
I’ve made;
the small light, tendered
and revealed,
peeking out behind His wings,
His Light in light
the one that’s seen;
His Shadow grown
by lesser things.


February 23, 2010