Behemoth

The behemoth sleeps by sun
and wakes by waxing moon.

In the accumulating night,
its glowing form is revealed
by neon accent-streaks of aquamarine,
bioluminescent against the black.

Without a sound, it claws
up through the internal murk,
stretching high and wide
until the slightest view of it
consumes entire fields.

All around, the encircling dome
of mingled cloud and smoke is inked
with gradient shades of purple, green, and blue,
illuminating the sunless day.

It sends its light receding
into the urban void, guiding
curious sprites through a tumultuous sea of sleep
to gather within its overwhelming presence,
crafting a symbiotic relationship.

The microscopic conglomerate breathes
life into it, and receives life in turn.

With this newfound sense of being, the curated masses,
captivated by the climax of the moment,
cry out in an exuberant clamor
that crescendos through the darkened sky.

At last, with its full assemblage convened,
and settling into its complex industrial reef of busy friction,
the concrete beast of woven tentacle streets
sings hues of synthetic city-jazz,
melodic with the midnight.

They fade at the edge of sight,
on the cusp of this invisible dreaming landscape.