you lie awake under the vanilla milk moon and wait for the universe
to sing you it’s song about the first sunrise.
the birth of ethereal beings
the universe begins to hum in sync with your thoughts and you
start to understand the dead language of the ghosts
and you feel their blood in your veins and their heartbeats
in the pit of your stomach. you hear the constellations
flicker and hiss and burn and you decipher the evergreen’s
fading whispers. the universe sings of the plum skin-stained
sky and how it shattered open and fell into itself at the
holy blow of God’s breath, so clear and humble and
breathtaking. the universe sings of the ruined angel’s
rebirth: the sun, how he burns eternally; a small price to pay
for his sins. the universe sings of the ground and the fallen,
sharp edged stars buried within, of the souls that sprouted
from the fallen, sharp edged stars, of the bodied cocoons
shielding the souls, of the love made using those bodies. the
universe sings of creatures who roam the earth with nebulae
residue in their eyes and hearts that encompass home.
the universe sings to you. the universe sings of you.
