First, it must begin with fire.
The amphitheater, a darkened and silent blank page
laying just beyond a grove of trees rendered in silhouette,
waits for the first, single spark.

The amphitheater is a darkened and silent blank page –
the stage is loaded with kindling, piled and poised,
waiting for the first, single lambent spark
to send flaming hands in prayer up to the sky.

The stage, loaded with kindling, piled and poised
will be the birthplace for the next moving film;
flaming hands in prayer up to the star-studded clarion sky
reach for dreams to melt onto the celluloid below.

The birthplace for the next episode of moving film
rests taciturn beneath a dome cranium planetarium ceiling;
reach for dreams to melt onto the celluloid at my feet
and watch them rise up and project onto the vacant stage.

Nothing can rest taciturn beneath this cranium ceiling
once the incantations, loosened from the film, glimmer up
and I watch their dreams sing colors onto the vacant stage:
I am the hapless scribe, taking furious notes as they rise and fall.

Once the incantations, loosened from the film, glimmer up
I am charmed, a scribe with a rampant and chaotic eye
fighting to take furious notes of their rise and fall
until the dust from their fata morgana fall at my feet.

I am charmed until slain, with rampant and chaotic eyes,
until the moon collides with their open, wanton pupils,
until the dust from their Fata Morgana fall at my feet,
until her fairies, called home, leave me dream-blind.

Until the moon strikes my open, wanton eyes
I will not stop writing, and perhaps not even then –
until Morgana’s fairies go home and I am left dream-blind
I will translate these phantasms into words.

I will not stop writing – not until while
standing just beyond a grove of trees rendered in silhouette
I have translated these phantasms into words.
But first, it must begin with fire.

Written 4/7/11 and 4/8/11
© 2011 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
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This poem was written as part of my NaPoWriMo poems and also for We Write Poems Prompt #49: Almost a Poem, in which we were instructed to write a poem about writing a poem. I hope you enjoyed the poem.

-Nicole
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