letters to the universePoems addressed to the universe. ♥
letters to the universe 6 by spoems, literature
Literature
letters to the universe 6
its not about this coursing dye, brittle gelatin
i dont complain about my broken patterns.
my Precious Sublimity,
long through all thats become
of me, my hopeless architectures, drawn up with crayola
on crumpled napkins,
i am Yours,
for always.
raze me
and raise me again
or leave me unmanifested, untroubled by abstraction from Your quiet Perfection
but do not leave me
here, alone in this world
without a hole in Your birdhouse.
hear my prayer, oh Star-Wraith!
You are the Night-Seraph, the Death-Maiden,
and i, your humble, aimless creation
do call upon Your gracious form
deliver me (an answer).
i see
Your trees spoke out
for acres,
Your warm creek slivers
through their blind fingers
shading the herd from their Buddha-stare;
its still summer here
and i must know why Your flume
so narrows
that i love only
one fallen leaf.
crawling
on the floorboards
who knew they held so little weight?
i am still an apparition
despite the skillful stuffing.
~*~
dear (uni)
verse,
how you cradle the colour of spacetime in the sparkled crevice
of a canvass thread! you gave me knees, so i beg of you, what choice do i have?
what intensity of being-
ness
belongs to me
that didnt first reed out from under your dusty jar of marble-worlds?
whatever it was that i was, i am crushed,
(oh, not without some ceremony)
but you remade me into a fabulous pulp
and sulfured me to a hellion match
to wand me ferociously ablaze
to the meter of your cheironomy
my shapeless beloved,
my 15-hourglass catalepsis,
my universe in an air castle above a snowglobe,
too much illimitable time has passed
already and not nearly enough stands left to unravel
your cotton mysteries borrowed from department store racks;
eternities, painstakingly dismembered to hallow stills
whence im granted pro tempore life to smear your magic shadow blush
to chasm depths where parabolas are ocean-wept,
will someday verge upon (my) collapse.
for even now i doubt theres reality left outside your arms,
mass beyond your lips, or breath more than moments
after you close your lights.