A hatching flower
Etched between sidewalk,
In cracked and broken space
Aches for the sun even
Further away than us people
With our trampling boots
Relieving the demented spider nearby her duty of
Spinning a knotted web.
The universe is all ******* in us
With our smoke and mirrors
Day jobs and animal ***.
Our complacencies age while youthful rage feeds hope for a new day— no sickness just bliss
And if we really are reflective of our
God now, they must burst the cosmos out of
It’s empty socket by thrusting pure frustration into a pregnant void
I wonder if they can see it unfold at once like all notes of a symphony screaming in a splitting tone,
Or if they’re bound to each atom
Stirring their own ***.