RD ( / )

La Que Sabe Singing

You are soil, sediment,
The dark blood of metal,
The clock hands
Of magnetic points unspun:

The boiling earth gave you birth,
You whose light is beyond voice:

There is your song,
Then the silence of your song;
And in the silence,
The merging of all voices.

Pray then, sing your silence:
You who have sensed all songs
And claimed ownership of none.

Sing me down to earth
And I shall speak
Only your praises,

For it is better now
To be wingless
Than lost
To the absurdity of flight.

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