They Were Dreaming

Black velvet envelopes the night,

its hush the rush of a sea shell hum,

incessant and mellow–

broken by a cry.

 

The voice, a martyr and ageless,

its bellow from a bell below

lighting up the sky.

 

Cold air above the void, it flies

across impoverished stone–

its makers momentarily dethroned–

from across a sea,

an empire.

 

The metropolis above

wears prosperity as disguise, 

the empire’s next of kin,

it sows what it reaps.

Demise.

Demise.

 

Two bells ring:

Reprise by a familiar stranger,

a formant of a different timbre,

it breaks the cry of his brother’s verse with another,

all enveloped in a sea shell hum.

 

The cries, they join,

black velvet breathes in night,

incessant and mellow.

Illuminating.

Bright.

 

They sing above the lights 

that keep them from dreaming,

creation in spite of, 

seeing, weeping, 

two bells lighting up the sky.