Kamaskera Glass Cradle

Softly now, the mirrors turn,
Moonlight bends where shadows learn,
Every clock says something else,
Every glass reflects itself.

Softly now, the kicks may race,
Time has more than one slow face,
In this room of angled light
Every speed becomes the night.

Softly now, the walls are glass,
Letting slower moments pass,
What you hear is just the frame,
What you feel has no such name.

Softly now, I will not rush,
Even thunder learns to hush,
Beneath the noise a cradle swings,
Beneath the beat a quiet sings.

Softly now, the night is deep,
Every mirror guards your sleep,
When the clocks have run their race,
I will still be in this place.