Apsída

Shrimp-hooked beyond lead dust and time,
A musty cavern with stone rings
That tilt, loom and weave air sublime,
Gossamer that mumbles and sings,
The life a mother-trust makes chime
All words, and all straight scars in things
Endless by Fibonacci's voice,
Where Mind weaves matter from it's tomb,
Curling by the dream of rejoice
— Hiding eternity in the womb.

In the sky, inks embolden blue
And the clouds dissolve to a shadow
Of nerves, where the matte night sinks through
Day's ancient meadow, to bestow
Infinity, by darkness' dew
A body of the stars that now
Pulsate the luminance of truth,
Reposing in the beams the tide
Cultivates in all mankind's myth
— Speaking secrets as I act or hide.

And the spider with a rock eye
Bears the expressions of the soul
Tasted in the winds of a fly
Rolling and seizing in the hole
Of a tomb defined by the cry
Of a man watching nature's whole;
Senses bound by contradiction,
Layers worn by the fruits of dawn,
Observed through out all creation
In a space, where all life is born.