On the seventh day
He sat on the throne
Of the Earth
And faced a great mirror
That reached
Into the restless black
Above, like his hollow iris
Which bled syllables, signs and symbols

A flood that reached the horizon
That soaked every eye and ear
Every being that sought to
See, spit, swallow or speak
Or hurt, heave at what remained
Could only perceive

This language of the drowned
This language of the alone

That none could reach, only know
Know, but not understand
That silhouette that now stood
Behind every laugh and howl
Beyond every claw and black
Abyss, in every restful moment
And every violence

Confused syllables
That refuse to see,
Seeping from that unseen throne.