The greatest sorrows
always peek into the greatest truths.
A wisp, a sliver, a keyhole glimpse.
Like June air thick with rain spraying,
tempting with the promise of drenching.
Lambent as sunlight filtering
through the clouds’ foreboding,
ever conscious of its ability to blind.
Intoxicating, as mornings heavy
with the fervour of a dream lived,
yet grasping to remember,
the few rare fragments that linger.