Motion is Relative


| fourteener |

Race toward the Western rim and the sun will rise again;
faster: gravity and day will fall behind the raw night
comprised of billions of bygone days darkened by distance —
circadian clocks tick to the calculus of motion.
The Earth with debonair tilt waltzes the changeable moon,
unsettled in unbalance from an impingent outset;
day and night, and the wheel of the seasons offer context.
The grand, seeming quietness of galaxies swirl in space-
time, the fabric unfurled quicker and quicker by darkness
from a quantum source of infinite turmoil, uncertain.
Meaning exists in eddies at the edges of chaos
where sentience manages to emerge from the looking-glass
particles, a floodplain stasis after a white-water
onslaught from a furious spring into cosmic offshoots.

*[ WSB ].