To the call of art or call of nature or call of goddesses or call of the soft spot or call of rest or call of nurture or call of work or call of sight or…

I hear a mountain almost see and smell him
An alien-like planet or a dead star calling for its last show

androgynous voices chanting underneath so silently,
chanting through the guts of scars
inviting to the realm of dying star’s sparks
a party to be held in a vast vanishing void

there is a sidenote on the left corner of the invitation
a rusty envelop promising:
participants will be privileged to become a small land of the chanting mountain
please inform the rocks about your attendance the very next time you hear the chant