in procession
the rhythm of coalesce
of dance

the rotary
and unstaining ordinance
to be, but for a moment,
such a series of
stresses, unstresses

when it ends,
we have lost our crowns,
and most stay in lull
waiting for their thrones to return

but such is a call for rebirth

do not wait

wanton minds blunt and without glisten

do not wait

must not stare at what is now
the absence of divine but

this longing emptiness
crying like
sirens for apotheosis

for godhood and
to feel nestled in pain and
to feel joy in destrustion