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Within the lungs of masters
Consulting briskly the ardor
Of the billions before us who have
Passed along the skin of the earth.
Exhortions found presenting new worlds
To us plaintive creatures of habit.
Our quaint patterns, our adorned modules;
Our negative systems of intricate reflexes.
Suspecting further universes, one relents to candor.
You are my sister, my brother; we are not separate.
We are a congregation of motile links and tubes
Drifting fragmented, along this aqueous mote
Our chirality deposits us in mutual deficiency
An aloneness guarded, belying our qualms.
Our universe is a lattice of neurons.
Hyphae nourished on a substrate of stars
Whose soft violence pervades the illusion
Of our tenuous disconcert.
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12 Jun 2012, 8:46 pm
