Motionless Is Deceptive
The frost is in my toes,
riming the up tilted boulders,
and twinkling the night sky,
like a cold breath blown
and whooshing clear off the plateau into the arms
of the universe.
Ah, standing still is spinning
all axis in step to be motion free except the heated
breath of the stars condensing and exploding.
Just diamonds or dewdrops,
a taste of eternity
swallowed.
Analyzed.
Understood.
And gone.
Me scrunching down, counting the meter
until full exposure.
Listening for the mating cries
of crickets absent in the last dying down of autumn.
I hold onto my self, then.
Great big hug and release.
Fall into the tumble of earth churned rock.
No one
but me
to see the castaway burning through
to my side. Call them meteorite, spore, seed planted
for tomorrow traveling the empty spaces of time
wondering when, how, where the tick tick tick
of radiation
changes our bodies and our minds.
To be melted down, patted onto others, cataclysmic
blown and find a way to solidify, decorate
and blaze.
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