bargaining with words you can't believe,
a plea, a prayer— there's so much our eyes can't see;
a billion little lines exist between us
we are not lost in the darkness—
every quark sparks another,
invisible, but there,
appetent at our fingertips.
seconds are waiting to be found,
to be formed, to mix with string theories
and ideas of special relativity,
i want to matter,
where our actions and reactions live in distant galaxies
reflected back in our eyes, close.
you say we're blind, stuck—
i say, perspective.
succumb to black holes and swallow white;
we can't resist the pull, but can escape.
i want to see the tiny lines in your irises waver:
overactive nerve impulses, momentum quickening
the beat under your breast, chill bumps raised on flesh,
eager to be freed and consumed, without resistance.
with might and main, equate this:
gravity is collapsing, and soon,
we'll build anew from scattered stardust.