It sounds like a turning page
or the scratch of a needle.
Each distinct,
and awakening that being
crawling beneath the flesh.
A mother calling you home,
a father exchanging his throne.
Let it be heard in the silence on the moon,
let it be heard in thunders deafening boom.
A star created, a world in bloom,
it's the sound of a moth winging towards noon.
In stillness and in movement
I hear the words of time,
a swinging dance stepping out of line.
Latitude and longitude
breaks their earthly tides
and gods mighty whisper
breaks the best of minds.
