Our souls are little embers glowing in the darkness of the universe, Beyond and within where the atoms glide, Pixelating space, Like a painting by Seurat; Your limbs are mine Your edges undefined; We are only energy bleeding into the entropy of time; Little fires, our soul’s cinders, waiting Like August flowers For the sun to die. And I will freeze from the outside, in. My skin will slide into the earth Preserved through the energy transferred; In every cold death, Birth.
My consciousness, so divided by entropy, will one day rest across the universe like dispersed dust; My voice reborn in the ocean tides, falling from the sky in a sea bird’s call, Or resounding through the jagged rocks On the coast of Rossnowlagh. And as with me, So with us all.
I wonder, when you hear the cadence of my voice on the edges of the ocean’s squall, Will your astral fingers like dancing flames trace the outlines of my face? Through the entropy of space, will you recall?