The Aether

The winds drift in cool magnificence 
Seedlings afloat in ambient potentials 
The breath racing over new born form 
Tender stems pushing upward toward heaven 
The air full of a countless exchanges 
Nascent bulbs wait ready to become 
The aether carries a secret light 
Blossoms fire in cool magnificence 
The winds carrying their ambient potential 
Aging blooms watching new born form 
The breath going out toward heaven 
Withering petals recall countless exchanges 
The air knows what to become 
A dead flower holds a secret light 
The aether

Rising

Now 

it stirs 

leagues below 

a form in the depths 

a song in the silences of the heart 

there are no notes no sounds 

but a melody of intuitions 

a pulling at the strings 

wind racing over potentials  

a symphony conceived of being and emotion 

a readiness to become 

rising beneath the sea of dross  

that churns and crashes in this waking dream 

a song is rising 

named leviathan  

bringing redemption and sorrow 

coming to swallow the damned  

merciless and beautiful 

to end the futility of mortal flesh 

a soul ascending 

from the depths 

to the aethers 

and it will  

obliterate 

every 

last  

bit 

of 

I.