Science cannot explain
the transient rising of the blood wave,
or heartbeat knives as cyanide
taking turns to carve their signature
in soul stone at the sun’s maiden rays.
It was the fluorescence.
It was the song of consciousness –
silken, madness and reverie-begotten.
It was the heart beyond the thresholds of haze
and the creed of the adrift and forgotten.
It was the dual scaled, mercurial, and golden threads
in amphorae that pour the light which shadows shrieked to consolidate.
And science cannot explain the keys bronzed by the path foreseen
in the soil from which branches the willow tree.
