hoya.

Oh, this Hidden land,
buried black sand
and pearl memory.

The colossal builds
the spiral out of mineral stones.
How their math,
becomes a perfect angle,
in God order.

In the Sea Rose,
the pink quartz forms,
light to bury the ash,
in it,
Our emerald heart centers,
frozen to the beat of time.

The Stellar wind
on the Sea Pony blankets,
mind with form,
time without rest.

She holds conch shells
against the noise,
to hear the echo,
voices,
of white pyramids,
the jeweled resonance center.