I am drinking a cloud
or the sound of the sea, endlessly
repeating, but what is
a dream, are there sounds in it?
Is, perhaps, the endless repetition
the thing? Earth, rotates, revolves, endlessly
almost, and we short-timers will never know...
Our big home, this spiral arm
circling a center of an ordinary galaxy
amidst a cluster of galaxies, moving
gently, at great speed
in an ever widening arc
a cosmic helix,
the coded reality
of the one who knows
whether and why we ought to care.
Who is this cloud dreamer
awash in inner oceans
his own DNA?
Buffeted by waves
of chance,
chemistry and spark
stray neutrinos force muons
from quarks that at last
are not there
endlessly rotating
in a universe of silence.
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