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.