She whispered, more wind than voice:
Yours is not the vessel I carved for the bearing…
but it trembles all the same.

in a dark corner of the room,
a scribbled note:

time bends here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here.

the Seraphim cry Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of Hosts!
Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of Hosts!
Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of Hosts!