I found a world of light beneath the ground,
world where dawn dreams when day is done.
Its rooms are stranded fragments of the sun
submerged in solid echoes without sound.
I found a world in the earth’s profound
depths, where noon’s refractions run
through marble meadows, and new clouds are spun
around the morning’s every breath and bound.
I found a world deep within the soul,
like frozen water in a summer day,
crystal of quiet, flinty, pristine-pure.
Its light is cold, like superheated coal,
its skin the thrill of sunlight’s fickle play,
a paradox of fire at its core.