Above the muted earth
Lay the cosmos, the black and the quiet blinding spectrum which have yet to reach our dimension
The space above lays untouched, undisturbed, unexplored
For eons, inconceivable wonders have appeared
And disappeared
Never seen by the eye, but there
Yet, somehow the feeling of being there as us, them, and all
Exploded, rushed into being
By a tug of intuition perhaps, we came, we began
Even now, our sense of being is of the essence
What was before the universe turning as it does now
Is enigmatic
Whether white or impenetrable darkness, it will never be for sure
Yet, somehow, we continue on
Not knowing, we prove nothing to the stars

Every moment I stood here, in sandals
meant memories to last a life long…yes,
say that is all now: valued histories.
History is all that is now, then
existence being culminated by
the sum of only experiences. My
Sandals may be worn from wear, but my feet
Have only calloused. Ready, heat?

too often, the eye seeming to believe
every color; the ear each resonance.
when life fulfills the physical
promoted by propaganda, how one
acknowledges imagination  is a
heart: no pulse, lost within life. Death is that:
when only knowledge reigns supreme to soul
and mind: can hear, can see; but never whole