March 18, 2014

be the holy universe
 
If you exploded from the pressure. Left a comet trail of toothy rubble.
Blasted the sky with metal-hot planets and their icy twins. 
If you ignored the usual parameters of space.
If you let the edges shrink from the margins and disappear.
If you coalesced and dissolved in the same breath. If you carried the paradox
of change, the instruction to take in and let go. If you forgot the body
that brought you here, at the intersection of now and what next.
If you unremembered your winglessness. If you overlooked the signs
that said how far and how much. You can be the holy universe, too,
carving a map from scratch, shouting your prayer of new, indefinite light.