“I would say this poem came out of a sunset car ride, but it’s really the result of concepts I have been trying to fully grasp all my life. The more we try to push the world as we see it into mere words, the more it resists us. God pushes back: we simply don’t always see what He is doing.”
heaven bows with slender grace
and steps aside
to flood the sky with
painted amarillo, amber, and rose – tinted
formed out of another perfectly timed
spin of the planet and sun:
the waltz of the universe.
what moves them, say you?
gravity, equilibrium, kinetics and particles and space-time
into a dozen or so compact words,
a thousand or so dictionaries and scholar – minds.
thought, truly, is what keeps us here.
naming keeps the animal in our gut at bay, yes? yes?
we are complex animals, bettered by our knowledge that the earth
revolves around the sun.
hah to the ecclesiastics, ho to the enlightened!
man is not the center of the universe after all.
we have discovered it. we have triumphed. we too are cosmic soup.
so what, then.
if the sun sets
and nobody sees it ?
does it exist if no one beholds it? revels in it’s
light as it sets and rises day after day like an echo in stasis reverb?
would the Sun still die and let darkness come,
and then shake the horizon open as it erupts,
shuddering heaven and earth below her with parallel beams of light
if nobody on this sphere noticed the waltzes in the sky?
what sort of being would come to paint the sky unnoticed,
and then touch the earth with his feet to die
mere gravity is too borne down, too bound to planetary spheres.
what sort of god can you find,
science or myth or mystery,
to die willingly?
and what sort of Mind would paint the sky every morning and night
using 3/4 time that sprawls across the universe?
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Published on 27 January, 2016. Last updated on