Aurora Borealis

I have never seen it —
but I dream in its shimmer.
A vision born in silence,
where earth exhales into the sky.

It is the ache of opposites —
love and fury,
gravity and flight,
colliding in a hush of color.

She — the sky’s forgotten daughter,
brushing heaven with bruised light,
sings in spectral tongues
above the sleep of men.

Green sighs.
Violet moans.
A flame that never warms,
a beauty too far to feel —
yet it sears somewhere deep,
just beneath the soul.

It hums like lullabies on ice,
an euphoriant pulse through night’s veil —
and I, adrift in dream,
follow the flicker
as though I belong to it.

I chase what I’ve never touched,
but somehow remember —
a paradise untouched by sorrow,
where the stars kneel quietly
to joy.

When I wake,
I carry its ghost in my gaze.
A spell I never asked for —
but would never break.