Bathed In Midnight Poem by John Weber

Under towering structure,
masonry leaning with gravity
pernicious in marathon bonds,
dancing ages unravel
using twirling force,
atomic-sourced,
to roll my soul in gravel.

Each plucked chord
resonates to mantles of sound
tuned aggressive against rock,
searing this vessel
along counter-seams,
halting reptile dreams
that drill to kill my trestle.

Violet spills from prisms
rolling behind my perilous eye
as trepidation pulls behind flesh
too vast for ignoring
hailing that calling
Psyche's been hauling
while dew imbues blood soaring.

Whatever swells my cells
recognizes code under the flow
magnetic rolled within the helix:
threads of potential
torch through all fibers
while stone scribers
feel touched when clutched as essential.