halting-stars we are, aching
for the vastness of space,
that lonely-only place
where heat-beats swell
on the edge of night -
here we are sun~bending
toward a red-ocher sky,
a gnarled branch,
and bony-finger reach
for a cloudy-whirl,
white on blue,
all the while curling-roots 'round
stones of earth,
star-imbued mud
for sipping nameless
elements of course -
we lurch in wind, whimper for the climb,
make leaf-song,
slow-swelling from Sun
drenched dirt,
the blood of longing serpents-up,
from deeper whirl'ds-turn'd
where harder-roots have
sunk
into the electron-cloud where numinous-valences are allowed,
which are inspired to arise,
such that lead becomes gold
glowing as a singular-sight,
vortex'd through Quantum tunnels
that make your body bright -
just another rapturous transmutation
of matter into light
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment