The sound of the drums
With warmth she hums
A pulse of flowing heat
In consistent beat
A rhythm so true
To be known by the few

The forest dwelling witches
Hidden in ditches
Finding fairy stories
Amongst lost glories
While walking with death
Withholding breath

Seeking the numbers
In waking slumbers
Of spinning phosphenes
And genderless genes
Of chromatic confusion
No longer illusion

Find the precise feeling
Complete the world’s healing
For this heart that is beating
There’s no use defeating
We must find this rhythm
Establish a theorem

I’m tired of hallucinations
Lost in translations
Senseless expression
To answer a question
Finally give me the numbers
Of my fractal dream slumbers

To build a starship
And take a wild trip
Across the expanse of spacetime
With the rhythm and rhyme
And grow a stout heart
With a moan to start