There amongst the ruins of a vast fiction

There amongst the ruins of a vast fiction,
the grandiose vault of parallel narratives
holding each star, unveiled by purple clouds
which occult the names of a confusing story;

there about the error of the argument
obscured in foreign texts, forgotten libraries,
and the unclear mirror that reflects itself
in each leaf of the unfolding Pin oak tree;

I'm the silence that is understanding each
of your branches, moving over you like clouds
and falling upon you like a gentle rain.

But your melody comes and goes, changes
as the spectacle depicted in the heavens
reveals a language of remembered art.