new moon Faceless
yet his hand shapes every wave with unyielding gravity and keeps every tide’s time with mathematical perfection.
He sings the song that makes every atom dance their quantum dance
calls the time that sergeants every planet marching elliptical towards the fulfillment of—
meanwhile He strives
with the hard hearts of marble eyed men
the wicked hearts of scorn mouthed women
they who have torn-twain lives that quiver out pathetic beats
the ones too dead to know they’re dead
till the Day
the Day when he takes Adam’s discarded crown and rests it light upon Another’s brow.
when the lion no longer feasts upon lamb
when mankind no longer feasts upon each other
when all these lives so recklessly colliding sing in the perfect harmonies He, before all times, composed.