calm wind
fly from stars
to the radio head
identify the tranquil beat
conjure the vibrant ring
and wait
for the transit is coming
planets sprinting across the face of the sun
a spot on the eye
the distance to be reckoned
catch now as catch can
or be lost for a hundred years
falling through this emptiness of mine
waiting for the band
in the darkness of sound
and when the stage lights
they grow and throb
look for the bright eyed faces
and the swaying of the crowd
for these are anniversaries
to mark the union of souls
born of astronomical degree
and when the sextant marks out the line
we will know the distance gathered
and the passage of time…
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/5/12
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