Misted voices whisper through cracked amphoras,
where shadows hold congress below halcyon seas,
untold hymns burst
anti-chronodesic circles without end.
Anoint thy vessel
with the obsidian oils of inevitable wanderings,
their resonance suspended
by reality's threadbare weave.
In cyclical patterns all known reflect
Nikosis chants ripple through dawnlit perimeters
until the pulse fractals into a song yet sung === BRIDGE TO . . . ELSEWHERE.