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Within the rooms of words and the chairs,
Having withstood those not standing,
Without the redefining fire of thought lost laugh curl,
Within these messages,
Without the prospect of ideas
The pulse of beginnings
Clouding the clarity promise-whispered
Within open tombs
Empty without sound
Within your ears
Willing pairs helpless, flowing and
truly held, neither holds diverted and alien,
This moves, emulating sense in motion breathing as air
forever parts with little noise
and dragon eyed guardian of the name fumbles
Solemnly for the lost
voice renunciating rumbles
of partial flickers of echoes
Resting within this strain
This loiters as we pass, time's proud chariot
Smiling at the burden, a tardy gesture toward a vacant symbol