Singing from the void, the voiceless utter
a crystal sea of meaning with waves
that reflect the clearest blue and stutter
endlessly above the structure of staves:
In the outside meanings are fluid-like,
turning to vapors under the bright lights
of historical vision, the turnpike
of musicalities and growths or blights:
To develop or sing – a dilemma
unfolds before the blind eye that is one
and three, trined with the black anathema
of plethoric emptiness, of deeds done:
Damages rest unpaid, but I do not
understand currencies unless they slot.
urbansonnets 