The Edge of the Universe

For after all, there’s no explaining why
electrons bouncing in a skull create
divisions, real, and unreal, as they fly
through space with which we differentiate;

that space is not some stuff we live inside –
it lives in us, accessed at merest glance,
for why would God in far removal hide
eluding thereness in a heartless dance?

We’re all Gods, you and I, these words should prove.
No science will the final truths reveal,
that revelation comes through words that move,
and, nowhere, rules of space and time repeal.

I’ve heard eternal music being sung –
But then, I’m just a silly scribbler young.
I’m afraid that poetry frightens me
confessed too much, too soon?
the mystery’s already gone.

a comma here,
veiled reference there,
diminishing, destroying
magnifying, crowning

the words flow out not always neat
persistent, though
and rest, a dream dreamt long ago
remembered only in the hush
these phrases chase away

nighttime messenger,
stealing in on quiet breezes
locks and walls,
wants and riches,
titles and medals
age and matter –
to You they matter none.

fleeting Meter, Form’s angel
a moment more next time?
this rhyme is nearly finished
and after that, another line?
perhaps more almost sleep cut short,
illusions shattered into fragments
unworthy of incorporation?

i hold a sword over my own head
a short sword filled with bloody ink
and lapsing for the briefest moment
in which i indulge to think
the pen is dropped, the ink is spilled

and in this act of self-destruction
is the mystery, at last, regained?