The Interstice

Into nighttime's sundered calling
Slips the whispered breath of beams
Through the mantle, almost falling
Heralding the death of dreams.

Pale satins softly growing
Ink diffused on virgin silk
Heaven's histories aglowing
Laced with morning's golden milk.

Stage's gauzy veil rising
Leads celestial players forth
A signature of each suprising
Dawn that guides the sunrise north.