Bound together by strings
that comprise matter
and antimatter, anything
that does, could, or ever would matter.
That's why everything pulls together
then blasts apart
over and over
until we even don't flinch anymore.
Universes that fold over and under
and tiny vibrations, little earthquakes,
There are hidden dimensions
all curled up
folded into common experience
so deeply buried we cannot attend to them.
Were we to think about them all the time
we might cease to do anything else.
I want to take up a violin
the bow hovering over the strings
and exact a deep series of pulls until the
screeching sounds like music,
the metaphor of choice for philosophers,
physicists, and questioners of cosmic experience.
If the vibrations sound glorious
maybe the experience will be remembered as
important, a lesson worth learning
instead of dissonance at a clumsy hand.
It is an elegant universe
with an explanation for everything --
Including why I miss you.