Gattaca Poem by Sleep D

And the sky remained our authority for what was not possible,
Until your last breath bereft of vitality conjured motionless prisms,
crystalline temples through which encoded parallel universes bespoke
innumerable plausibilities that we had not even dreamed of in the saline mists
of the breezing valleys the colouration of which had been concealed by steel sculptures
and in a moment which had been rendered such by all those that had preceded its singularity
the plurality of potentiality silhouetting restful shadows for our treks along the comic faces of futility
and the contrasting luminescences of its peaks and troughs, were liberated within all that which until
now we had considered subject to the jurisdictional limits of the skies' supposed sublime monopolies