A Quanta Of Questioning

 

To wander where the mind flies

a vagabond voyage through irony’s ocean,

but never seek the spirals

ascending from the layers touched

rising unto the cosmic staircases,

is to deny their murmurs sparkling

with shimmers in enigmas,

how there is life

beating beyond this earthen solitude,

avowing utter reliance only one self,

lacking willingness to accept the umbilical cord

stretching into space.

 

Feeling Mother Nature’s face

while ignoring the textures

having origins unexplained

requires dwelling in a house

without windows or doors,

thinking its imbalanced den

has a logic you can accept.

 

Not hearing the timbre of twilight,

denying the silvery soliloquies in starry vestments,

means crawling through life

always looking only at the ground.

 

Missing pieces in our mural,

intuitive sensing they lie

among the sea in the night sky.

 

It is to ask and not expect a common reply,

seek the chains that tie the world

unto its universal home.

 

Never content to merely accept

chaos is the core of being,

walking in the warmth of illumination

torched by a flame

not held on the planet.