Dust of Perfection

I stand by the shore of an aurora pool
Gazing at my everlasting reflection
Reaching the dimension of perfection

My demure mind explodes like a fool
in a million iridescent fragments
scattered in a field of liquid color

In a hall of mirrors I stare at remnants
of my soul torn like heroes of valor

Dust of my mind forms a cloud of stars
A glittering smudge that mars
the constellations with brilliance
And there I remain a beacon for billions

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The Conceit of Time

Time is the great deceiver
Dividing the same from the same
My body is old but my mind is young
And only death can cleave the two

We float along its tidal flow
Backwards when we remember
Forwards when we use foresight
Wandering as a curious child

What use is time for a universe
that sees forever in a blink?

The cosmic pattern holds for eternity
Even as the universe ceaselessly moves
Night and day flicker back and forth
Yet both happen at the same time

Nothing ever stops moving
Not even mountains
Only the speed of light is immovable
This is the ultimate mystery

Roots of History

We think the thoughts of our
mothers and fathers
and their mothers and fathers
and so on ’til the apes

The words of ancestors
still resonate in our throats
Letters from Ancient Rome
still emblazon our pages

We all trace our lineage
to fish climbing out of the sea
We still see with their eyes
and hear with their ears

The invisible roots of history
Weave us with the origin of everything

Ladybug

Sleeping ladybug, still as the peaceful night
Garbed in a crimson coat out in plain sight

Remaking its body for the sight of spring
From a worm was born a beauty with wings

Climbing out on feisty legs, ready to dance
Taking to the air, looking for ladybug romance

My Hand

My hand is an primordial organ
An appendage gloved in Jurassic skin
Filled with bones of an untamed beast
Yet hold the world with a gentle touch

I was made in the hands of my mother
when she caressed my infant body;
I wriggled away from her embrace
to make the world with my own hands

I grasp a pen with sensuous grip,
glide on the page with civilized grace
with the same five fingers
the primordial man used to launch spears

The world of silicon and steel
Conquered
The world of swords and shields
Yet the hand made them both

Are my hands alien tools
Temporal anomalies floating freely in time
Or
Are our imaginations
Inadequate for using these marvelous tools?

Tree Like Dragon

Gray tree in armor of twisted bark
Standing, absorbing the passage of ages
Counting the years with rings upon rings
The meticulousness of an accountant
The wisdom of a sage

Welcomes the seasons
with leaves of green, yellow and red
Drinks the rain the heavens bled
Protects the garden with its shade

Reaching the sky with grasping limbs
A tower filled with scampering life
Squirrels and bugs make their home
and moss lay sleeping on the ground