Momentary Speculations

Universe eye

To grasp the asp of termination

Cleopatric germination

Of finality

Dispatches all reality,

Culminates fatalities of all ambition,

Elicits that admission of condition

To banish.

So that rain and wind, Moon and sunlight



When I and eye comply to fly away

From night and day,

From Earth itself that no more spins

Or swings through summer, winter, Fall,

No longer there, all or me

To be neither enslaved or free.


We’ve been there,

You and me

Timelessly beneath no sky,

No hate, no love, no desire

No ice, no earth, no fire,

And shall, in time, return.

Yet, I do not yearn

To leave this place, this condition,

This persistent admission

Chained to air, to light, nutrition.


The tumbled qualities of hours

Wherein disaster crouches, glowers

And, on occasion, even offers flowers,

Patterns, exultations, elements

Of relations that still yield



The embrace of molecule to molecule

To trace the twitch of space when energies

Engage, comingle re-enforce or divorce intention,

Celebrate the very primal texture of the basic stuff

That declares we exist. For we are not

Conglomerates of spots of unintended happenstance.

We are the dance, the joy of touch and pass.

The eyelook glance of oxygen that flings electric fields,

That swings electron skirts and flirts seductively

With carbon’s placidities to tempt its possibilities.


For love and desire ignite the fire, inspire

Inherent elements that dart and spin beneath

The depths of quantum elusivity.

Here has no place to stand, but must race

The fields of microseconds, while novas burst

And galaxies carousel to flee that black central hell

Which gobbles matter into impenetrable mystery.


Once the sense of existence is tasted,

Flavored out of eye and ear and scents

Of distant eternities tingle and comingle

To seduce with lightning flash into perception,

No deception conjured from unknowingness

Can vie with the loveliness of life.


So will I grip this place in space,

Hold tight with all my might

To mists of yesterday, promises of tomorrow.

Anything is well worth hanging on

To this amazing gift of being

That comes only once

And then flees like a shadow over snow.











One thought on “Momentary Speculations

  1. I feel honored again by partaking in your Creative Process of Art.
    You are a blessing to me. Thank you so much, Jan.
    I will bring this poem to Mary Manuel’s attention.


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