Iris

More about Iris

Iris
you are a messenger of ancient archetypes
you are the stuffer of the clouds and me
by water
fuel, from a flat jug
you have it in your job description
perhaps
you have it in my mind
before you all dissolve in white foam
in a golden shard
about the rocks
o beacon ready
to blast
I was afraid to let you go
then i did it anyway
then i did it anyway
the door closed
you disappeared
that's just what a rainbow does after sunset