Our thoughts are like dancers, two
inter-mingled, co-existing electrons
spinning around the same nucleus.
Our hearts, the pulsars at the center of
this rich, red, universe. Roses clinched
between orbiting lips that circle a black
planet obscured by an eclipsing moon.
I wonder if wishing sets thoughts in motion,
causing invisible ripples in the unseen.
Ripples that carry our secrets to God.
I consider all these things from my bar stool,
the poet's throne. A magical chair with roots
that grows limbs and a mind of its own.
~ ~ Charles P. Ries