The metamorph awakes
and the entire ship has been rendered transparent
She has learned the trick
of navigating the chambers and corridors of the Heart
Resonating in the hallways . . .
The sound of one violin (maybe a viola)
A bow scraping . . .
A knife cutting heart strings . . .
It’s the loneliest sound
in the ‘Verse
She finds the pilot in the center of the Ship
reclining in mid-air
(or so it appears)
Without speaking she turns to see
the World over which they are float
It is a place peopled by barren trees the color of rust
the color of old blood
forking up from the pulped-dank soil like frozen lightning bolts
And the irregularly shaped clumps of pewter cloud
are streaming through the tree fingers
like a rivers of mist
She notices convolutions in the mist
Fantasy Creatures the form and then disperse
All to the macabre strains
of a tormented viola
She says . . .
‘I wonder what the First Ones thought . . .
This is it
He remains silent
‘This is where we all came from
this is Heaven . . . isn’t it?
I can see why they left . . .’
She moves beside him
and kinda leans into him
a playful gesture
“You haven’t told me your name”
‘I’m saving it for a surprise’
“Surprise me . . .”
She watches as the Beasts of Heaven
dissolve . . .
There is no pattern
The Ship Chimes lunch
the Pilot remains still
the viola plays . . .