There was a circle of rain
Of fire falling
Falling from the shallow blue strain
Grasping the ceiling

Deep above the bottom
Glistening red strings of ash
Flowing inside gravity
Passing solid past

It rose to the floor
And washed the cool air
Rinsing the black space
Eating the tired stare

Until the voice was plain
Whispering old tides
Whispering to the future
Touching the metal that bides