A Quanta Of Questioning

To wander where the mind flies
a vagabond voyage through irony’s ocean,
but never seek the spirals
ascending from the layers touched
rising unto the cosmic staircases,
is to deny their murmurs sparkling
with shimmers in enigmas,
how there is life
beating beyond this earthen solitude,
avowing utter reliance only one self,
lacking willingness to accept the umbilical cord
stretching into space.

Feeling Mother Nature’s face
while ignoring the textures
having origins unexplained
requires dwelling in a house
without windows or doors,
thinking its imbalanced den
has a logic you can accept.

Not hearing the timbre of twilight,
denying the silvery soliloquies in starry vestments,
means crawling through life
always looking only at the ground.

Missing pieces in our mural,
intuitive sensing they lie
among the sea in the night sky.

It is to ask and not expect a common reply,
seek the chains that tie the world
unto its universal home.

Never content to merely accept
chaos is the core of being,
walking in the warmth of illumination
torched by a flame
not held on the planet.