Crash And Burn

Upon a grid, infinite domains converge,
I'm somewhere searching my soul's urn.
I want to trace back to find the demiurge,
and the source of first light and last turn.

Where the sensory emporium's fired cup,
dispenses coherent sight on golden kiss.
Where first realms of heaven are built up,
in rainbow dance and aurora's wave bliss.

On my silver cord's sparkling unfurl of coil,
reach into star-studded space on lumens.
A photon express of flesh hammered toil,
stretched thin I become scarlet hued ruins.

For I hold not, white light of sufficient pall,
to counter flaming betroth of winged flight.
Like Icarus and sun, I begin my longer fall,
to return with burns n' quickly failing sight.

TBollinger