“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.”

–Carl Sagan

 

The vastness, that great big everything

will swallow you at some point,

but you must not view this as failure

or weakness, fellow small creature;

this is what vastness is supposed to do,

and to struggle against it is to spit

in the eye of mystery and surrender

your curiosity, it is to hurl the kaleidoscope

of wonder into a merciless void

and send your life marching barefoot

across a prickly desert.

But with love, that overused word

with underused potential, with the lamp

of love you will see that being engulfed

by vastness is not only bearable, it is

an adventure that will blast your soul

into the jungle of discovery, from where you,

fellow small creature, will never want to leave.

Together we laugh, really laugh

with mouths wide open,

bodies spastic with joy,

hearts stretched wide,

about what you know so well,

but what I’ve almost lost

in the slippery tunnel of time.

Musicians devour passion,

applause expanding

their hunger.

 

Instruments vibrate,

emitting waves of bliss

played in the key of yes.

 

Volume chases away thoughts,

stomping out chatter,

within and without.

 

Bass throbs, pumps something

thick and electric through veins,

superseding heart.

 

Rhythm grabs legs and arms,

commanding movement,

connecting us all.

Backstroking

across the ocean

under poems

spelled by stars,

immersed in

the steady chant

of darkness,

I search for signs

pointing toward home,

not realizing

I may already

be there.

Tie me

to the wind,

setting me

free from here

where these

untethered arms

still will not flap

into flight,

here where

something

tighter than rope

binds me

to the safety

of solid ground.

 

And wind,

take me

everywhere

my feet will not

travel,

take me above

and around

the widest world

you can find,

take me far

away from

everything

I think I know.

Selfish

to want

the morning

all to myself,

to hope I won’t

have to share

the stillness,

to desire

empty and

silent streets.

 

Foolish

to confess

everything to

the dawn,

to smile

at the sinking

moon,

to imagine

the world is mine

for a moment.