Music writes the moon and stars

— Yehudit Oriah

Music writes the moon and stars
And paints the sky black
And speaks with the dead

Only you exist

You watch
And everything seen
Might disappear

Your eyes speak now
And the sea attacks
And time awakens

Later the dead will respond
Music will pilot the shadows
And time will stand still

My face rises from baptism
You untie me
The spirit of speech, in which I soar

The dead keep us alive and go on prophesizing
Feed the future creme brulet and strawberries
Far away, in the fragile musical range of archived speech

I woke up the sun with the dead’s marrow,
I and my daemon.
Every dawn is terrible.

Every death is present.

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