The First Matter Poem by Archaeus Six

She spills through, with light and with stone. 
Locking down - all within the empty scale. 
Remembering what we scatter,
Impervious to the drumming; the driving willful chord.
Her crown in soul, her myriad of pitch,
Tinges auburn and olive; swaying steadily in decay.

All this poison we shatter,
These momuments that flicker,
Thank god to you; pass by in shadow.

When time fails the stains on stone,
Her music in russett; in amber will deafen,
These questions to simplicity,
On cold autumm night,
She stays with her browns, her golds and her light.