All our assumptions were wrong.
The strangest part
is realizing we always knew this,
even in the hour of our deepest pain.
We’re like a secret of the universe
that wandered through the trees
to a scenic overlook and stood slack-jawed
peering into a crevasse full of stars and comets
choreographing the meaning of existence,
then got whacked in the back of the head
with a frying pan
and splattered into a corpus callosum of
Now we’re each whipping back and forth
past and through one another like
a wave packet of space-blurred special effects,
each of us in a state of constant acceleration
with our stomachs clenched
in our own little tonal vehicles,
thinking separately but all at once,
How did this happen?
I’m gonna’ find out who did this,
and I’m gonna’ fix ’em.
Keep in mind, that’s just one approach.
Hafiz hopped into my orbit once,
just as smooth as the seventh day,
like living in bouncy houses
was perfectly natural for
quantum rubber bands of awareness like us,
and told me another one–
something very wink-wink about how
a holy drum in the hand of God
just loves to be struck,
I got to thinking then.
we might even be a tambourine.
Someone really good at signal theory
and Fourier Transforms really ought
to get to the bottom of this.
* * * * *