Archon's Atrophy.Sonnet 23

. The Lexical Lava of the LivingNo longer a collision, but a flow,The language of the Aleph starts to melt,In rivers of a molten, verbal glow,That can be tasted, heard, and deeply felt.The syntax of the stars is fluid gold,The grammar of the grass is emerald fire,As every secret that the void once hold,Is transubstantiated by desire.The Archon is the pen, the blood the ink,The vessel is the parchment and the hand,That brings the universe back from the brink,And populates the desolated land.The Silence is defeated by a breath,That speaks a life into the face of death.