The Song of the Black and the White

I saw all the ways that symbols clothe thoughts:

I saw infinite radius with finite circumference,

that both were and were not the things they encompassed.

They had massive wings and were covered in fire,

including their heads that screamed like a choir.

Drought was their left hand and feast was their right;

they were the life under day and the death over night.

Their homes were the frames of universal time; 

where they sang of mortal life with immortal rhyme.

the message we whispered to reincarnation:

Where love becomes spite the way left becomes right;

We become the song of the black and the white.”