The abstract abyss

Interlocutor voices in the brain, the reeling delight of lost time,
Those demons gather strength in human weaknesses, and if
Talent is a curse than ineptitude is a blessing, for when the rain
Falls down in sheets against the perforated screen underneath
The species’ veer, the parking lot empties of cars, afraid of the storm
Beyond the growling of the thunder, but the smell of ozone
Reminds them of their past, living behind a martyred stone wall,
Hiding from the ignominious gestures towards the Divine that
Ignored them, while the sun breathed its last sigh of the day, falling
Down below the hills, drifting along the ranges of green and purple,
And still we kept spinning with the songs, the hallucinatory cantos
Played with the additional manipulation of Universal strings, tightening,
Winding themselves up around a cosmic piano key,
These metaphysical bands are about to break, into a disharmony so beautiful
The sublime seems to be benign,
And the sea’s picturesque waters crashing against the jetties, remain an
Artifact of those times cast away into the abstract abyss.