Golden beams trickle slowly
through clear walls
Delicately touching darkness
in empty, quiet halls
A hush of serenity
never breaking
Untouched beginnings
awaiting awakening
Hidden in shadows
brought out in illumination
Remnants of earth
flowing in and out of fiction
The cold touch of glass
but the warm feel of sun
The beauty
of what is to become
autumnevalow 