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Saturday, April 25, 2020

A Future Test

A Future Test

My life does not belong
To me
It is the constant creation
Of all the stars
Of all the galaxies
What is between
What is close
What is faraway
Unnamed things
That move
with gravity's finger
Of an unseen hand

I move the small bits
That move past
And through me
I sing its honor
Unheard except by walls
That vibrate so slightly
Dampened by the felt
Of atoms in motion
They are the beat
Of my heart
The love and the touch

I thought I belonged here
As the spirals of this planet
Were woven on aether's looms
It's strands pulled through
from one side to the other
A great garment of light
Pulsed from my body
To cover me

This small space of me
Becomes a voice
In a choir of random notes
Unheard and unvibrated
In cold and darkness
Where I will rest
Until I'm needed again
To paste a language
Upon skies
Pulsed by my small glow

Barry G. Wick