it finds the bodies that charge the air with their death
it finds the pen that draws from the vein
it finds the tongues that copper the bell
it finds the marrow that melts in a fortress of bone
it finds the stalk that does not sleep in the field
it finds what flickers beneath a thickness of ice
it finds the aperture in the glass
it finds the breath to ignite a twist of grass
In response to Via Negativa: Rendering unto Caesar.