it may be broken down

patterns

zero zero one two seven seven
the past is the past
and the stars believe
my bones are white
and i am open whispers
over skies closing distance
under oceans staring up into
the white light of suns and
sleeplessness holding every
breath until its pure and
blue opportunity fulfilled
and realized traveling to
futures unimagined hidden
between my skin and the
soil where my name is buried