“Transcendent poem”

Above the hush of turning clocks,  
Where reason flickers, softly spent,  
A whisper flowers from the rocks—  
This is the path transcendent.  

It’s not the course the river takes  
Between its banks of time and sand,  
But rather where the silence wakes  
And secrets ripple through the land.  

It rises past the sills of thought  
On ladders made of distant dream,  
Where wonder’s consequence is sought  
And shadows curl around the gleam.  

A hush of galaxies in spin,  
Unnumbered truths in single breath,  
A light that kindles deep within—  
A song undaunted even by death.  

So write, O soul, that shining code,  
Within the seam of every line,  
Each word a bridge, each line a road  
To reach what mortal hands decline.  

Beneath, above, beyond the known—  
You find, in rhyme, the secret leaven:  
A fleeting phrase, not yours alone,  
A poem rising into heaven.

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