Matter

Fact of the matter is that matter’s naught

Hard edges an illusion of suspended animation

It’s not about fingertips to fingertips

Or even tongue to tongue liquidity

When you get down to it

Really down to the minutia

Where solids become constellations

Small points within large spaces

We hold more room than we imagine

Voids of emptiness held together by faith and hope

Universes of possibilities contained within perceived limits

Even more outside

Beyond imagination where divinity normalizes

Everything

So that there are no limits to restrict potentialities

Infinity is alpha and omega wide

Everything and nothing

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s