I, we are the shells of bugs that clatter and clack
The anxious hurry of shifting shadows
I, we are the slow moving dirt
In which all shapes buried are scripture
and all shapes shatter their hailstones as they stretch in glandular fits
I, we barricaded the world in enemies and the soul in a seal
Five thousand fathoms away, separated by mud
In tonight's stewing shadows is a reverse cenotaphic cave that glowed
The amber ember in the dirt of the night
The shadows danced like a gale atop the dirt in the dark
The amber ember in the dirt, in the shale, in rapturous lust
Branches into snakes into the wind
The cave's call
The amber ember in the night teases the spirit from the smoke that floats without fear
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