Carved around the tower of Vega
Which soars high into the night
Are tens of thousands of stars, each a cuneiform letter
– Who carved this and when, using a sapphire stylus how sharp?
These letters bestow their meaning to the desert and sea
Which sleep with closed eyes
Their meaning is quietly snatched
Like ice stealing bodily warmth
From Man who lives with eyes half-open
Pythagoras probably read these inscriptions
Shepherds probably read them too
And well as slaves rowing their masters’ galleys
But inside the shining spire
Humanity smiles happily
Letting its meaning slip away
– Who built this and when, creating this purified void to the zenith of heaven?
We grow suspicious of the hushed, sanguine warmth of the body
That has failed to melt away completely into the crystal currents of air