This is a poem about my perception of our reality as concerning the great questions about existence and the Universe.

Like sparks trailing
From a billion, billion fireflies,
A single thought
Limns a billion suns.
From the first small bonfire
flickering across four million years,
Whose light imprints itself
Upon the canvas backdrop
Of a feckless, barely cohesive Infinity,.
The matter of man, no more than
The past, transmogrifies the future --
Denies the import of “real” or “black”
Or any other type of matter.
Yet existing, it defines the local locus
Of now and when and how and then.

The freezing cold of space
Burns like energy backfiring on itself.
Somewhere, celestial light shows
Flare across parsecs of near emptiness.

Liquid oxygen fuels the laboring lungs
Of multitudes, singing out the music of the spheres.
Maestros of a trillion symphonies,
Platelets in the lifeblood of the Universe.

Like a Coriolis wave that imprints itself
Upon a formless sandstorm,
A thought burns itself into the very fabric
Of Eternity, opens like a budding flower,
And initiates its own realities.