My chest opens up, to expose a carnelian drum.
Soft smell as dust clouds scatter on the beat.
The evening air stirs, whispering to the sky.
Arbitrary are the moments that come before.
The strong taste of the present rinses memory clean.
Chest opens, Carnelian drum.
Soft smells, clouds scatter the beat.
Air stirs, whispering sky.
Taste present memory.