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.