Connected

The macrocosm weaved you into actuality, spun you into instrumentality. Made of cosmos, you are irrevocably fused, embedded in the stream of being. The microcosm energizes you into dynamism, induces you in electromagnetism, the photons of your incarnation dance in every glance, prance in every instance of your continuance. Love’s subatomic particles collide in accelerators, misbehaving in violation of known laws, hinting at energies and synergies illuding science, feasibly disclosing deeper sentience at the tiller. Emergent property somehow remembered, redolent, vaguely fragrant in your cycle of life and death, your mortal path. Feeling your numbered days, you cherish every crescendo, treasure every tranquility, reenacting, craving, trying to punctuate, prolong, pausing to savor every ecstasy to which you are connected.