Aminus The sacramentals of material matter
pare away beneath the dirt.
The chains slip from our wrists
and fall along with gravity
as we revel in our flight.
We settle in the rays of the sun,
or the spray of waves.
We are whispers between stars,
the shift in the seasons.
Mens The ink cuts across time
and settles along the edge of our lips.
We shift waves by our tongues,
Cage nature in our hands.
We comprised our world
in a few simple equations,
the chalk dust flying from our fingertips.
We are a helix, running towards the center.
Cor A thunderous pound,
it re-echoes along the chasm
of this infinite cosmos.
So inferior to the questions
that punctuate our asterisms--
yet it pulls apart the darkness
and competes against the stars.
We place our palms against it,
and the sound of the universe resounds.