Cantation in the rudewood,
beams transfigure mass.
A heavy-light foreboding
which follows as I pass
tumbles closer to the border
of place and placeless time:
where aware I seek the rhythm
who senseless birthèd rhyme.
Simply gorgeous. Strong juxtapositions and I like that 'birthèd' trick ... it forces a two syllables iamb. That could come in handy. I hope you don't mind if I put that one in my bucket of poached tricks of the trade.
Quill