Celestine

That celestial material

Which is safely guarded under skin,

Creaks and groans as I type this:

My iterations from the gods, words

Can become something beyond

Our understanding.

We formed letters to encage blank spaces,

But I am trying to ensnare

Not only space but time as well.

Whenever I write

I am transported through memory

And arrive at my star,

Situated to the West,

Guiding pilgrims, shepherds

And free men.

If I crack open this calcified temple

Will I find a network of galaxies

Or a museum of words?

Creak, groan, keep twisting in your joints,

Beams of Vulcan’s fire and love,

For one day you will stop

And the light you emit,

Will darken and fade into blankness.

Not even letters will be able

To arrest this holy body

As it joins the river of music.