An interest in the abstract,
brings luminescent colours
from the waves of a shore
I know I’ll never see.

We are impossible, unnatural,
burning ice freezing in summer heat.
We are not the world colliders,
but insignificant effects of action.

You are maelstrom incarnate,
yet tranquil as sleeping water.
You are colours, patterns, shapes
in the universal symphony.

But this storm of light is caught,
held in the slothlike embrace
of an eventide grasp. You are
phantasmagoria, chained.

Set sail, then, for untold quarters
where bound men unbind chains.
In your serene elegance, create
a universe of chaotic perfection.

In another place is another storm,
albeit one of a subtler hue.
While you burn bright, consider,
the storms that remember you.