The Image & The Imagined

That thin line between the image and the imagined,
Like a string of pearls of yellow shimmer turned out of focus
...by lenses summoned by the serene serendipity of the finest wine...
I glance at it with eyes glassy.
Afraid to partake in the feast of the chalice,
Lest the imagined should fan that flame in my heart still raw
In the flicker of which the image stands warm and orange.
And I die a second death in this lifetime...