I am young,
but I must move slowly.
Wind rushes through me, stirs up
my little cells like waking monsters.
They crank and churn like broken clockwork.
Buried somewhere is the infinite teenager, floating in ecstasy.
She is God.
She is omnipresent and whole.
She is endless abundance.

Walls in my body burst forth
with life and movement:
Vibrating atoms and sprawling bacteria.
I am human.
Thick like sludge, I wade through the day.

I mine for gold in a swamp,
Microcosms and meta-cosmos
spinning frantically in static.  
Under microscopes, life moves still
but here, everything dances.