Symphony No. 1 in B “Renaître”

Babylonian blood clot— a timeless killer, stop taking your time Brittle substance— systemic moral calcification, dead coral color Our sympathetic sediment is starting to settle —I starve for the current again, the agitation of the blood muscle. Dancers on the street, I too want to break— But who will be left, if not for us Who will write Who will sing, Who will breed harmony to repair the broken Maybe I'm just the one eroding— Existential existence is the mode, furious apathy is the means, loss of warmth is the median that we live in. I feel a little less Human these days, —a lot more sapien in most ways What happens when— the embolism slips Arterial pathways, make way Emotional clarity, an antithesis to erudition— Low-Frequency —Oscillation again This will not be the end, sometimes I slip into black But new light appears, from 93 million miles a century of wisdom arrives encircling cellular high tide, a grand staff— You, —the cosmic composer, droplets flowing onto the arrangement— conduct this symphony.