Beneath This Frozen Ground

I tease the night together with a soft light
lapping my face like a wound...

A bitter star labors by the bottom
of a silent cloud (or a magic cape)
that disfigures the darkness
of the deep freeze that ponders back
through inky pools of time

Is anger beneath this frozen ground
beneath our fire, believing nothing,
beneath our dreams deft, muted presence,
cognating light as a silver flower
or a virgin birth?

I dreamed a morphing every-shape
until it caved
and the night assembled my world as a finite place
that suspends our shared beliefs