It

Beautiful, beautiful- we twirl
The intricately laced insides, shyly,
Until they cascade, flash
The ghosts of awkward and dumb.

This is the moment,
The pinnacle, the pain
Surging where we are not
As exactly as we be.

This is royalty- we make
A light way in this world,
Colors mixing mad, as we please,
Endless as borrowed time.