There is a line inscribed in time and space
That contains my fingertips and face
Determining here I am and will be and was.
Durations of expectations, collections of regrets
That are best installed and stored in dark mementos.
A life is that and more. Patterns to come, shapes before
That flash and flame in delight and shame that cannot be
Discarded. These are the evanescent solidities of me.
The universe no longer spans vacuums of nothingness
Between the sparkles out of stars but is full filled
With dark mysteries who ghost the emptiness in nets
Between the galaxies that we can barely sense.
Odd distortions of the ways that photons streak,
Incoherent revolutions not to be accounted for
Of galactic spins that betray something odd out that way.
Thus do our lives as well encounter elements of occult spell,
A magic out of random unexpectedness from dark woven strands
That shadow through our lives to strike with lightning bolts,
Jolts of horror to rip away quiddities into what has occurred
Conferring upon all creation that all basics have become absurd.