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Circles
Space aliens speak a geometric poetry,
crop circles are left,
to enlighten each brain cell.
Soon we may think,
in pictures, patterns, and spirals once more,
employing the mathematics
of immediate insight.
The heart hungers,
brains are secretly rewiring themselves,
into cosmic bridges.
Life begins to express itself,
hieroglyphically.
The aliens have not yet arrived
as us.
we have yet to grow into them,
as all our words
are acknowledged as misspelled symbols,
a primitive speech, too disjoined
for these new times.
So far, a simple pictograph,
of reality,
one any alien could decipher,
remains undiscovered.
Yet we watch and wait,
as revealing holograms,
create new visions for us.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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