realization

Only in silhouette did I ever see
the whiteness,
the sharpness,
the sweet excruciating, blissful pain

Fang and foe,
bright and slow,
think not of the love
think not of the blood

The city was gleaming,
covered in snow
still like a tombstone
not a draft blown.

The stillnes was broken
or was it not?
the presence was swift,
and then it was gone

The smell of burnt paper
lingered around
the taste of old copper
still in my mouth

the day finally arrived
something old, something new
a drop of blood
that's silver or blue