World Views

There is the spinning. The edges of the
Swirling mass fray a bit near the
Pitchest night where Dark Matter pulls
At far away points of light.

There is the soaring. The feathers of the
Pumping wings ache with exertion near
The shoulders that pull and push at dull
Memories... when the land is far away.

There is the swimming. The rippling of the
Shimmering scales flash in the light
Of a sun shining through the shallow surface,
Where darkness calls beckoning from the deep.

Here is the singing... of the fish who
Waits for the falcon... of the falcon who
Waits for the comet; and man who
Waits no more.

2001