Above Alive

A brushstroke, a fume, a painting, a price tag
Dictating numbers in ink too dry to quantify
The rush of breathlessness when the air grows thin
And the live energy that clouds can share with fingertips.
A note, a crescendo, a song, a label
Attempting to describe what is alive as stagnant
But in your D minor lives a flock of double-winged birds
Without stomachs, without eyesight, only flight.
A word, a sentiment, a novella, a synopsis
Overlooking the city of substance which lives between the lines
With glowing steel too tall to understand
And it close enough to the sun to set every inch on fire.
A bolt, a wire, a sculpture, a photograph
Losing the curvature, the depth of all that's intertwined
As growth takes the shape of the moon
Complete with the reflection of light set to stun...
No, a photograph could never capture you.