Gently leaning
rough reeds file,
a bobbing populace,
into a distant continent,
rooted dangerously
in darkness.
Afloat, the lashings
tightened long ago
and often since,
the raft feels
and interprets each
movement of the eight.
"If only the sun
will break my silence"
wonders an insect,
"can I rise
above the leaves
to honor them?"
In the center
of the eight
one unseen,
obvious to all,
embodies air
not occupies.
It manifests
the vast silence
of which it speaks;
it speaks
from every mouth
alive.
As the first rays
warm the scene,
as the insect
aches to sing,
as the hearts shatter
in the eight
the
space
between
them
shall
consume
them
all.