Where Everything Waits

Nobody was left who’d lastly scuffed first earth’s crust.

Boiling sea had thin-sheened each cubit of firmament.

Mountains ceased to assert, gave into ground

arounding whatever hard rock

to then there over and take down.

All shapes breaking hysterical particles and subs who settled

devoting former whir of shape to Silence,

which was enough.

It stayed uniform Silent for some many months

which strengthened to pull outer space noise in to neutralize

but lost its grip.

So this Sound hard-pressed in to sink holes

and look into original force that was still shut in

under black lacquer cabinetry: our future perfect world.

It opened the door of dust,

the space sound picked up pings distantly.

Seeing to sound is what and how Bounceback.

Since the dust so still and small

the waves skinnied high-pitched

to switch on resistance of an average mote.

What would stand to receive?

What was the point of pointing out resisting decay?

What was there to say?

Could anything be activated? Much was strained in “done” state

and so sought exit through the soft Silence under rather than he stabbed

by the point-cornered Silence above.

So sound deranged to be

needle pierce to dust piece

and sunned a word heard first by the bygone (“ouch”).

And the Silence startled by the sneaking sound

forgot its own high ground

and grumbled some rebuke.

Underground glad particulates laughed at the gaff and expanded

(something among it a voice) to sweep up what had been

PART TWO

One in Dust begun.

One chased out to Perceptivity from mum.

This made an in as such that could close

over after outreach which comes back with something to say.

Stretching comes to the zone where there is shifting

from mixing its own x-space with outside sensed data.

Each already edgy piece in “earshot”

each piece pulled in by dust’s desire to harbor more

is similar to dolphin noise.

Riffs that began off flats of static,

f.p. earth (future perfect),

etched by rust-hinged sound.

Not all dust took in.

Those who did not got ultra dense.

If there was a strike to one of this specie

sparks would be three feet at least and atoms unleash.

To them strikes relieve adhesion.

They like hits from nowhere; they won’t admit they are hard

in every space.

But sparks in dark if an eye sees them

a mouth to say how beautiful a light of such blue

that lasts and deepens blue.

Shaped like a pin, each spark alights

to hold itself, elsewhere, down.

What it lands on is to remember the spark beautiful.

A spark from Hard Silence made mad.

The more made makes it harder which gets hit

and flies further because it is harder.

PART THREE

Minute care is taken so that soft expansive dust gets all over

the dense. Colors change as comes collision.

They want to do all they can now that they can.

Hopefully they don’t know about the deep frozen people in orbit.

Those on the figurative shelf until there is a proper place.