Quies.

the world whirls

onomatopoeia

shatters

the morbid clowns that live within

taunt:

dormio forsitan somnio

just out of reach, each mortal sin

deadly

disguised saccharine

a feather flutters past – i can see every strand

worlds whirl within worlds

tapering body, strong and weary as Atlas weeps

drowning in the endless velvet of the myriad

orbs

they whirl, too

stellar dance, toes bleeding and blistered in their delicacy

barely belying the ethereal that sings to them

falsely humble harps of hydrogen play in tandem with the

music of the spheres

as the cosmic sphinx looks on

unblinking

watchful...

but they, trapped in stony defiance, secrets within secrets,

they know.

long as they wait for the end, they dance inside the tomb

slowly, for they have eternity to spend, they whirl

tombs within tombs

undisturbed in their apathy

until their tryst with death ends.

Quies.