buoyancy

There is a striving to the high road, a strut to the drapes of every station, an occasion misstated  to every rise. The long day came early and left late, still not bothering to drop a thin dime in the passed hat or to help the host with the tidying up. Now the new moon moves towards its rebirth, a phoenix every couple of fortnights or so. It didn’t make the rules, it exists despite the confines of our metrics, abiding by the laws of creation. There in the heavy moods of matter, it shapes the gravity that it holds. Spacetime wrapped like ribbons around its waist, paired and pulled and spun along, courted like some queen’s promised daughter. Our wander left by the roadside, our faith always the first to be squandered.

I waste my days, I hollow out my nights like a Bible hiding a revolver, the empty there to reveal the truth to the pomp and palaver. Crowded rooms and cluttered shelves, more beasts and birds than Noah ever knew. I move with the ponderance of a laden barge, floating on the tide despite my burdens, carried by the weight I displace. The greedy collapsed star of my heart granting me powers accountable to the mystery alone, my sanction unseen in dreams or the waking world. Day or night my gaze drags the light down to my level, I rise as I write, the tomb empty, the slab shattered into pieces.

The water displaced, the wind Bernoulli’d and bent into lift, a sewer full of balloons and monsters due popping and slaying in the depths of this darkest night. We toil to the tune of glad tidings and stern hickory, treats and tricks unto the bitter end, every corner turned another  labyrinth beast. The enemy spews lies and plagues, covenants and commandments spit, demanding justice’s satisfaction. The elder roots split stones and turn obelisks to rubble, gathering the fury of our mother star and the gifts of our mother earth into the countless clever limbs and trunks of the tree of life to wield against the inevitable entropy, bunnies and blossoms and butterflies versus geology and entropy, speed and sex against tides of iron and fire. Aloft like the bumblebee’s flight, placating the imponderables by hard work and joyous play. I lose the night and the day, and still, a perpetual revenant, I rise.