The Pandorica opens at 5 am.
And what will we see in there?
Soft beams of stars from phantom seas/
Colliding kaleidoscope mysteries/
The waft of your hair in a warm Spring breeze/
A confetti parade of prayer

The wall of your sockets demagnetized
The warm of your pockets turns chill
When each of our membranes goes fragmentized
Drifting beyond while or will
Gifts of penance lose all appeal
Too traumatized to whimper or feel
Denial replaces the space we called real
Seared to an awestruck stare

Caught in conundrum ‘tween twilight and dawn
Formerly someone, lost without form
Back to that question you asked being born
and the answer that started when?
The Pandorica