Analysis of Wonderful Rest

One thousand days a second pass within
an instant cloud of exotic surprise.
This feathered-eyed fancy closes softly
upon solitude's open palmed wild way.
Wonderful rest; fiery sparkled fibres
of relaxed skin: flakes of flickered language.
I whisper love along the curve of yawns,
watch it roll along the stretch marks that smile,
no words escape - only black and white looks,
moment's of indifferent scenery.
There and here; inside the middle somewhere,
postcards from the sky look for the stamps' press.
Hands shape time into crazy flawed sections,
feet stroke air in the invisible dance.