Chaos Theory
You cannot see Medusa in the dawn.
There has to be a certain darkness for
That nebula, part of the antiphon
Of Gemini, to raise its purple tenor
Curls, twists, to start to sing its melody
Made up of misty tresses, pulsing light,
A song first heard before moons might agree,
Before the oldest sons of God were bright.
There has to be a darkness for this shape
Of hazy amethyst to chant its word,
For monstrous myth, an evanescing grape
With poison juice to make its music heard.
Surrounding it are galaxies of choirs
Performing notes of self-consuming pyres.