by the tongue
of the great opening
chasm
of things begun and
things dying
now the tide engulfs
the fire of stars
sprays
the unlived moments
that linger behind
have strayed
into a walled garden
where time cannot complain
the music of the spheres
strikes
a chord in your refrain
how I wonder there
at your aweful twist
does this describe the
grip of my fist
against these winds
that release amends
and whisper
of times
long ago
buried in the catastrophe
of worlds in collision
trying to Be?