Eye of moss and tulip mouth

This poem is called Nightbook.
I wrote it at Christmas time, when all I was listening to was Ludovico Einaudi's new album.
And so the poem title was appropriate.

The story of the night retold
Over and through and around my murky mind
And those of all others transfigure and tie and emerge
Out of shimmer. Condense to liquid.
Eye of moss and tulip mouth
And sparks of ivory and gold
That rain and swirl and flutter,
Pooling at my feet until all I see are echoes
Of some chilling beauty.

See the seas of chiming bells.
Many worlds of changing cycles.
Symbols, sparkles, strangers glow warm and pulse,
Yet never waiver in their constancy.
My dark place.
Where windy pages turn and bend
And write their own endings.
I know them better than they know themselves
In this loud silence that gives way to airy nothings.