Infinite Corridor

Memories and time give other meanings Prehistoric nerve was made of almost nothing- Roots, berries, and salamanders in fire Some metals possess the same memory: they can be bent If hammered; they won't shatter like ancient grudges In the antiqued world of causal urges The night has a presumptive disorder Saints pressed on glass preside The once-begotten souls arrive late, clustering like bubbles Lighter now than any known atomic number they begin to rise Away from the repelling fields beneath The last dregs of vital force are propellant To leave the swaddling clothes of Earth behind Wrapped in filaments of waning dreams, they take flight Weighing less than a death's-head gulp of air Hollow city shapes are in the dark, and restless rivers wrinkle In sinuous scrawls, as if they knew their destination And have all eternity to get there Above, the worn amalgam begins to disintegrate Organic shapes are rendered out of Earth's sloppy embrace The alphabet of elements goes free fall again A bevy of tongues closes down shop, like lids on retorts Glass keeps flowing molecules along gravity's indention's While self empties out, even as fine crystal does: Stretching across infinities corridor.