Matter Maelstrom

The cosmic maelstrom swirled scorching and fierce.

The omicron potage squeezed then quickened to omega.

O what’s the point? O fifteenth star, O mikron, O third eye

parallel, briar like herbal touches with a scent of graphite,

it is a waveform not a prison. Free amidst the dark glue, right?

On the heavens a galactic wind blew the lark and the owl,

forever entangled like buridan's ass in equilibrium. Balanced,

the thirst for free will beneath emotions all present in the moment.  

Despair bound in quarks and leptons, a symmetric state.

Fractalling neurons fire mocking our pensive scalar doublet, phi.

Our minds, our golden universe expands, illusion breaks.

Yield again epoch to a single electroweak interaction,

Despair has taken over lurking in the mycelium,

spinning on silks. The hyphae, the shiro net casting

feeds on itself, a temporary haven with its own form of beauty.

Yet, the sacred and profane join as one. Totems in a glass of wine,

but nothing perfect lasts separated through cosmic time.

All the burning souls with a restless conscience vibrate,

in this necessary illusion, in this seasonal state of repair.

Brave attempt at cheer with the happy abstract is no antidote.

The couplings of a thousand fields go nil from asymptote.

The matter maelstrom stretched to slowly flame out.

Spinning flat, the torus does bubble collapsing back to one.

Paying profound and courageous attention to body and breath,

despair was never ours to hold! Let it have its own life,

never holding it nor moving it on before its time.

Leave it to its own volition, a foundational ground surveying potential

-Tangle - tubular -funnel -spiral, a paradoxical species of jugglery.

thunderball pyrocummulous flattops mushroom instrumental

-collapse -devastation -eternal return to singularity, illusion breaks

Matter maelstrom of consciousness did gambol free in time,

blowing the three manifold horn through the light cone, interred state.

In despair pour another bitters and soda with a squeeze of lime…

Descend into the maelstrom story within story on winds of the sun’s word,

the lark and the owl have met in the middle... Awaken little hummingbird!