Listen for the

rise of a wave,

stream flows

silently

to depths beneath.

A far off birdsong– it was missed from the air.

We live

most

in our minds;

where

your words

do not answer

to mine,

and what eyes

have been denied,

we imagine

better

than they

have seen.

Sat

Sat in standing pool,

unsure of three depths below.

Leaping through waves.

Upward turns gaze,

floor of seven parts above.

Where flying things go.

Stars bright 

strung as garlands

hung low, 

scene on scene

and eyes 

follow closed.

Deep the songs

from our

closest show,

echoes question

a world opposed.