Extinguished Poem by Amber Luna

i stand, brushing fingers against the translucent wings of irony,
gently feeling each ridge of contradicting destiny.
nothing is more real than being faced, finger tip to finger tip,
the droplets of identity merging.
spectatded by crows of the static winds, held mid-moment,
caught dead in an undercurrent.
wading beneath the surface,
i am still, eyes swimming.
graced by liquid light and colours,
it fills me with unobtrusive inquisition,
witnessed and uncompromised in disposition.
one look at the sky was enough to cut slits in it.
gills transformed, breathing the clouds, heaving the earth.
i retreat, reclining under grooved ankles of secrets, burried,
covered in dirt.