the religions of deep velvet gloom
preach endless grieving and brimstone hell
but some messengers speak with tongues of water
or with the clicks of dolphins
at the end of the world trees will bleed
bright meteors will come like fallen angels
I am tied to my father by DNA and star dust
in the museum of dark there are rules about light
in the museum of light there is only light
why have I only now imagined him
in that luminous place where we all carry
luminous oceans inside blue midnights
and dazzling mornings trees that bleed
and dolphins that speak messengers deep
in the rivers of our veins each of us a museum of light
