2: 0, 4

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​

OH
THE DISCORD
THE SCREECHING 
DISCORD
THE LICKING FLAMES
THE GENTLE THUD
THE AIR COMPRESSED
AS IN A HURRICANE OF SMOKE

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MY BROTHER MOHAMMAD AND I TALKED.
HE SEEMED TRUSTWORTHY.
THE BEARD LENDS HIM AN INCORRUPTIBLE LOOK.
HE SAYS HE ONCE STOOD HERE.
HE SAYS IT'S THE WAY THE CLOUDS BEND.
THE WAY THE SKY SPINS.
THE WAY THAT MASS FLIES AROUND MASS
SUCH THAT BABIES ARE BORN.
EARTH
FIRE
AIR
WATER
HE SAYS THE MATH IS SIMPLE, BUT CAN'T BE WRITTEN DOWN.