Archetypes

the tree
the star you said you'd be
it's golden 
and sprawls across
the ceiling in my apartment 
drawing my eyes
a gaze divine-ly set on time itself
above the shelf
frozen 
undone and 
alive
your light
incarnate chime
it's mine
your glazey frequencies 
the soundtrack to my dreams
you are the dust 
and the beams that filter through it 
when the sun bows 
you are the rust 
a patinaed bone
and a 1970s drum kit