9/04/2011

Untethered at the End of the Cosmos

It slips from my fingers



Cliched grains of sand.


I fill my days with work


Because it slips, more each


Passing day...the slips


Growing faster, exponentially,


Until I feel that I am more


Bound than Sisyphus ever was.


Or more, that I am as Nataraja


At the destruction of the cosmos.


Untethered, barely holding on,


Balancing the worlds in hands


No longer large enough to contain them


And yet like Whitman, containing multitudes.


But are they multitudes bursting forth,


The form and content of creation


Or are they the beginning of an end


I only glimpse beneath my closed eyelids,


Sparks forming and flaring and fireworks


All in my mind, constantly going off.


2 comments:

melbo said...

You make these photo posts seem so effortless but they are just perfection. The words and images always so thoughtfully crafted. I look forward to them.

KWombles said...

Thank you. :)