The Pointer
All the pieces are falling into place They are far beyond the rational mind Somewhere in between time
Hitch a star Take a ride Float All the way Home!
Pieces fall, dancing, to be
Floored
by quantum perturbation.
The ink, barely dry, on lists of the impossible,
runs in the wet rain of imaginary truth.
No ultimate anything holds us back.
All that binds Promethean Noos
are the flimsy threads of yesterday's supposition.
Lovely poem!
Keep it up!
