The cosmogony of chance (Whisperfire)

I have washed in the liquid sky

washed my sins clean

I want to tell the world I have found God...

pressed between the pages of a book

ingots churn in the earth's memory, deep in the cosmic soot,

turning into apportioned systematicity 

into the cosmogony of intrepid incommensurable insurrection

in surfeit insustainability,

ferment of policy,

vanity and insurmountable uncertainty, 

chemical incogency, 

sifting immesurable time, 

bending space-time...

commingling with the theometry of the rule that bends the will of the Gods, 

for the favour of diamonds....

adorning,

Valkyries venting vehement vociferous eternal night,

in hero's final feast,

the vanities of an infinite cartography,

drafted inexhaustible precision, 

in the happenstance of dreams.

Obsidian night,

regolith's sweat,

dreaming of cloudstomp thunder...

churning whisperfire into the cosmic heart,

amberstone cannonfeathers,

windsweat ironbark chasmingot,

freeform Pegasus,

sifting through the ruins, 

amalgams of the drifting memory,

recalling Valhalla, 

steeped deep in wonders, magic, and science

and the cosmogony of chance.