I breathe across the face of the deep,
The endless chasm of time,
And sing to forge the frame;
Clouds condense to myriad spheres—
A storm congeals from tears of light.
You thought I was god
And that my chariot raced across the sky.
When I mated with the moon
You panicked and stones bled
To quench my lust.
We roared from the sky
And made you from our own flesh,
Woke you from your mineral sleep
And left you alone on the edge of a storm.
If we return to the mounds you made for us,
We would find you utterly lost.
You arrived on the back of a monster,
Your face white as the morning star.
Thunder announced your entrance
Into the sinking city;
Surely, you had returned.
You frown from the ceiling
Like an angry grandfather,
Give life to an indifferent Adam.
The angels are envious.
Darkness was born of my perfect light.
A crack on the face of the sphere
Begat innumerable tributaries,
Matter spawned in my death throes
And stars erupted like lichens on a dead tree.
I am death and will persist
Until there is nothing left.