Looking Back
the light
would’ve been dark in another room.
photons milled on walls,
pawns bumping pawns,
in a struggle of grey upon grey.
zooming out,
this was just another cell
of a planet in a district on a continent.
beyond that, a slapdash galaxy,
dark of matter and cosmos.
anything human served as a morsel
for the Gargantua that was outer space.
it all interconnected, if only in one head,
what came out, in broken vomits,
drawn from a flawed moebius engine
that lost spokes within spokes of
wheels within wheels.
so it was:
this lonely universe
had taken a long time to craft its little beings,
the sort who could be forced to ponder
how tragic and magnificent
the will to spawn dramatically was.
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