I ascend

a spiral stair

to greet domes of light.

My quill is primed;

ornate ink glitters;

a veiled form bows

and smiles in radiant pose.

On the marbled beige

of my tarnished book

her vibrant words paint verse.

Tender palms confer a grace

so I gaze askew

and perceive dark thoughts

when my exile wanes.