Sybil and the shroud

By -
Gossamer, relic-white, weaves 
through my fingers, 
hovering;
heavy with a told version of me,
thin, I'm holding my own my skin
above grey froth rocks 
and unsettled secrets.

Can I give so long a time to the sunrise
wind,
let it eat the veil
of not-knowing?

To see the day flowers
untinted,
stone in this harsher world,
your eyes —

I let it fly.

C. LJ Ireton 2026
Inspired by 'The Knight and the Moth'

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