Tetragon
You have eased my pain
rooted from the darkness its song.
Now the flood lights bend on a pin
rise up from the river that is Virgil's Rome.
So sweet is your nectar
the tuning of one ear to the sea.
The lover with a clockmaker’s hands
sculpting a rose.
Begininglessness is the banquet
that held Golgotha's will.
The word standing forever
before its silence.
The creation gave breath the creator
begging amongst workers a pious rain.
Spilling into Yesh, Ayin,
splitting two into one.
Learning teaching learning
the sovereignty of less from more.
The colours of mad verse
plumed with light.
And awakens in a cricket's song
the roar of pandemonium.
The sick with the sick
and the poor with the poor.
Dragging from the black fire
the last paragraph of itself.
The fruit shouting the seed
and the seed shouting god.