Kisses And Quarks Poem by jim hogg

Galaxies fly blindly within us:
vast turning fields of all that we are,
the wild need of the crying child, and ice,
flames, and thought faster than light.

Knee-deep in wonder in the stream,
we parse its every swirl, down to atoms,
the language of the universe, that platform
for the tumult of emotion we paint it from,

to shape out of it some kind of kinship
a sense of everything called home: sunset,
the lives of leaves, sun-scarred skin, flight
and the maths of music, colour and decay,

the towers and powers we fabricate.
It hangs around us like a canvass,
painting the artist in us, pinning on us
limitations we propel ourselves beyond,

the fountain of miracles we imagine,
bounded primitives that we are,
to the necessary knife of joy and pain
thrown into the heart of our universe,

and turning blindly within us.


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