dynamics of an inner spinning
everyone around is transparent
below a persistency of flares
none is speaking of the dying season
we behave like watchers of the skies
we distribute meanings to the shapes of the clouds
subterrestrial storming is the engine of emersion
animals coming from the nether
souls mourning for the change
the vault is assembled and the cycles are formed
sounds are filtering into the motionless spaces
a storm of no shape
a saturate mass of drives
we know how alien it is but we can't say a word
as divided into sections of our being
voyagers static
a mechanical dusk is blazing behind us
silver and gold are pending from the sky
what we were waiting for appears as unknown
but it feels like iron while it comes over us