Gravity kisses love,
left kisses right,
consciousness is born.
Goo and mud and fire.
Water condenses from foggy peace,
rains down as rest. The soup is stirred by
the urge to know itself. The lusty space
between anxious photons and slothful dust
sighs, exasperated.
The universe is a fractal!
It doesn’t surprise me, really.
Complexity doesn’t frighten me as much as
refresh the spring of hope within—
the same one that finds the hammer of time
the least interesting cousin. He’s been given the estate,
it seems, but only if you squeeze vacuum’s fruit dry
and leave the blood-dry husk for the gripping frost of Lord Chaos.
I’m told I should fear him. Maybe I do.
But I am goo and mud and fire.
Looking back and looking forward:
I can talk to the stars, and they can talk back.
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Next poem
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Photography: The Color of Creation by KJH Cardinalis
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