let there be light

voidless whispers
greeted the dawn
his starlight throat
proclaimed it one


he stared the void down
and placed of darkness
and of light
a candle that burns up to a throat
in each one

to master rhythm surely adam tried
the speech hed been given taken from
his masters light
he tried to reach a sound
a perfect retribution

apocalyptic sounds
greeted his evening
the way the notes played out
a certain linguistic feeling

of something at the centre
booming through his throat
the gravel-throated being
resounded music clearly

and when we use our words
no one really knows
what each one is
but each one is a stone
and has a style of its own
 
the master is not known
2020 is a nasty feeling
of language being robbed
and madness being driven

nailed in every core
when walking on the waters
nobody asked for shore
or better palm tree beaches

or better weather
good or ill
nor become neurotic when they saw

the way nature depletes us
of humanity
and language sets a standard
of  thinking of the all
instead of thinking nothing more

take the pebble from your throat
throw it,see how far it goes
watch it as it gains its style
watch the world explode

the master of his words
the best thing that he owns
is the master of the darkness
in the wind as nothing blows