Incoherent Transmutations

A snow-white dove with proud down,

Afloat aloft in faulty crown,

I lose my wings and down I fly,

Then shatter from the deep blue sky.

Concentric spheres clash in night.

Internal friction wastes my might.

The wounds are healing, hopes renewed.

Thank God we settled our feud.

A ball of gold is fresh new start.

The path is new and smooth and flat.

The bright new lights from pure soul

Are beacons that will change my goal.

Obscure rails, foggy sky,

The heavenís light shines much too high.

Then where is she and who am I?

I mustnít know the reply.