The Nothing - Freelance Whales

The nothing came in little drones

A darkness sewn in folded quantum tourniquets

The offering we made to Jove

Was not enough to keep him on the horizon

When all the bridges wave and flex

With bending pitch in fractals woven

All your friends will call to us

They’re floating overhead

Give us a tone

Fill us with sound codes

Let the honey bees ferment

Glow into a meade inside the lions head

Delicate species were meant

The pirouette into the background with the dead

When all the bridges wave and flex

With bending pitch in fractals woven

All your friends will call to us

It’s floating overhead

And when the sonic waves are shot

From cannons on a flatbed truck

The atmosphere will shake and shout

It’s cracking over head

Give us a tone

Fill us with sound codes

Grace us with deep floods

Freeze up (and thaw) new perennials