The agent that shapes the desert,
You're a well of dense fluids

From the basin of time, you have derived
From the lakes you've left behind

The boundless celestial season
Drags the sands of time

In between your flecks of sparks,
A constellation of departed stars

A day in the life of the agent
One blink of the eye, pre-creation

From the catacombs where our dead rivers run
The constant red glows bright

A thousand arms point to the sun,
The sky picked clean and white

Into the bestial season,
The angry animals are all in sight

Just fiercely rotating, roaring
In between their specks of light

A day in the life of the agent
One blink of the eye, pre-creation

Analyzing eyes howl,
You watch the ashes engulf the sky

Known pulses hits the air,
Behind a veil, your breath, you sneer

The radiant tunnels stashed,
Now grasp the atmosphere

Washed away towards the tides,
And chased down towards the spine

Slow and accurate
Over the fields where the first fossils were formed
The pendulum sways like a dead arm

I hear you here,
Resonating from your shine

Blazing the veins of the sun
You are viewing the great world

The visuals of your sounds resound
Throughout all our known abysses
And floats around in the magma chamber

Toils with what's forgotten
As all our craters are formed
The slowest (there is), the continents drifting
Underneath the crusts of our deserts

I've shovelled through dust to find you
To the point I heard the sound of your mind
Memories displayed a secret gallery
Cargo on an unmanned freight-train

You tell me the earth is a womb
Forging fake centuries
Plugging the entrance to a new world
Thriving in the realm of your chest

A chromium sun gleams in your eyes
Like a hatched-out horizon it bleaches the skies
The glowing behemoth came back from somewhere
And its chromium chest it breathes

Your skin is a barrier to another world
Centuries gone, just came back
Music in a silent universe
Ancient echoes from pre-historic birds

The desert monument stuttered
"Real and dry, hurt and scrape"
The hollow moment, battered
Is now wiped clean from the sky

The chromium sun gives a strict glare
Sliding on your limbs, overriding your sphere
The hatched-out horizon came back from nowhere
On its chromium hands and knees

The wrath of old rocks
Placed upon the ridges
Bastions of the universe

Never fully spent
The sediments has taken them
The cold and damp has returned

Hear the thighless mother
In her inverted travail
Her shrieks float in the infinite blue

As the stars treat
How volcanoes are born
In the distorted red

From the slow slopes
And in the early winds
It echoes from all around

Dancing on the surface of my eyes
The acoustics of the sands
The swarming song inside the heat
Of the breath of dead sleep
That rocks the empty boats
Tied up to the barren shores
And pounded by crumbling forts

I've found the dead cities of Syria
Lost in the sands
The grains of ghosts
And traces of (various) apocalypses
And of men never born
Smouldered, harassed and bothered
Where the stood, angelically,
Shoulder to shoulder

In solitary landscapes empty men watches
Delicate pigments of gone silhouettes

There was life here
Before the sands swept through the waters
And replaced the rapids
And sung and howled in between the houses

The flares of life, the torches
The things to see when you slip into reason
The flares are there, dancing in the corner
Subtle reminders

And you see now that all around you
Is dancing silently
As if to be discreet
As if life was all a discreet landscape
Just dancing subtly around you
In the flame or where it resides
Next to the spent candle

Little containers, shrubs in your garden
Just light them and see
They have a way of showing you what you
Were missing
The seem eternal to me

You need a light to see in the dark
Here they come to life
Come to you little flowers of the dark

Little flames in an hourglass
Traveling towards death
Like us, they move down
Showing their descent
To the eyes they have illuminated

Prophets call across burnt dunes
Your name spells rusted carnival tunes
The sand hides hives of nested wombs
Where fossils used to gallop
Watchers of the morning sift
Shifting ripples eye the world
Where silence is knowledge
And creation is consumed in infinite truth

What sound would I make here
Would we be us when there is nothing left?
When minerals dry and turn to dust
The grains will form new ancient artworks
And the wind will roll up and down the dawn

Choirs of drifting trials - denials of the great
That drew the gravel into his veins
He's the far away hills that swim into manes of silt

Strap your thoughts to this engine
That rears itself skyward
As the nimbus numbs itself to desire
Can we live with this sadness
That only rots inwards
Old rope that rows against the current
Twisted with the years