Saturday, September 15, 2018

Postcard 4


Ink stains the cellulose
Bleeds into the cell walls
Reforming and remaking that which
Has already been manipulated
By stars and air and sunshine
Also humans and machines
Nothing started here at this point
Except this, this moment, right now
The molecules have been recycled
To get to this place of rest
Relatively speaking
The electrons still buzz, of course,
The protons still whir (or whatever they do) and
Who really knows what goes on in
Quantum states? It only
Appears to be a pause because
We don't have eyes to see
All of this will be remade
Refolded and reconnected
Once again, and again, and once more
This is just a blip, an oasis
It as changed already, transformed
Flowed forward into what it always
Meant to become even as it metamorphs into its next phase

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