Michael Coy Poet Rhyme

Kindly Inclining

(In the 17th century, when thinkers
were first getting to grips with gravity,
they named it "kindly inclining".)

Seeds adrift on water 
coalesce: 
fueled by affinity, 
they form a community. 

Last pearls of wine 
combine: 
electing against space, 
they cling to the curve of the glass. 

Berries stain the fingers 
that rupture them, 
their plasma clasping the hand, 
rather than leave unthanked. 

We scraps of matter 
are emboli, 
swimming in Not-Being. 
An impulse in the void 
coagulates our Something. 

Swathes of stellar gas contorting, 
slab on slab of basalt pressing, 
horses on the hill cavorting, 
algae in the swell fluorescing, 
ospreys on a rock face nestling, 
children tumbling and wrestling, 
matter moves to matter. 

We are starstuff all, 
and motion is our purpose. 
We are aided on our journey 
by the steady pull 
of starlight.

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Darren White March 6, 2017 at 3:33 AM Isn't Kindly Inclining a much better expression, less grave, and far more poetic? We are emboli, we gravitate towards each other, suffocate, but cannot do without. We clutter together and our environment, coagulate rivers and seas to solid oil fields... And yet there is consolation in the knowledge we're not alone... We're such contradictions. Michael Coy March 6, 2017 at 9:39 AM That, in itself, is a better poem than mine!