Waiting Song

A silent song, a whispered song A quiet song in the broken sea Spoken without speaking By the will without [My] blade reshaped speaks for [me] In inhabited dimensions, on the rich fields Between the stars A sweep of its arm and atoms scatter Particles spin, entangled [I] spin with them Worshippers give praise Idolaters perform rite Give glory and homage To the growing god Should the edge of [my] knife go blunt Should the arms of [my] petitioners lower Should the congregation never sing again The will lives, the will feasts, the will spins on Poor food in the sea, still [I] eat Quiet voice in the dark, still [I] am heard You who want power, you who want deity Take shelter in [me] As cyclone grows from seed As currents feed the whirlpool As planetesimals collect dust So grows the will-without-will Till I stand without caveat Speaking in my own voice Walking the fields of life Guide, Will, King Lord of Every Nothing.