this too shall pass

an object, made of gold.
vibrantly faded from constant exposure of
the solar masses nearby,
the insides of this vessel are rotten
and undesirable.

sound, like mould, forms in the cavity.
trapped in a prism, it defracts into
space, presenting all colours and all
pitches to the heavens. 
it screams and shouts
and it’s alive.

masqueraded in black light and inverted polaroids
sound waves stir, 
swimming in lagoons of darkness
and hopelessness, despair and desparation.
it screams- it wants to love.

and suddenly, singing. it
seeps down the seams of the closet
and forms puddles of black holes,
wavelengths unraveling,
supersonic singing whistling,
wanting more.

somewhere, a house rocks with understanding
it is the vessel of hope and new life,
it glimmers and shines with
a thousand dreams and wishes-
singing of breaking free.

this subterfuge is silent,
a futural message retroactively transposed to you,
a message in a bottle.

it simply reads:
this too shall pass.