Created and written 6/27/2016
Long beats of impending directions
Within the rhythms of deep space
Float nanoseconds of sublime rhythms
As rebellious microcosms keep apace
Uncertain who’s behind the curtain.
Wild radio waves
Wild radio waves
Wild radio waves of bottomless space
Go to my heart in a gossamer place.
Dire directions in a frenzied race
Sweep like galactic hands of wrinkled grace.
Uncertain who’s behind the curtain.
Asteroids remain imprisoned in absent time.
Mitochondria live in a vine-embellished vase
As a specialized coterie of far-flung batteries
Take up slaving to a soul’s lifetime face.
Wild rhythms of deep space
Minds snap to rapt attention
Following shelf-life directions stamped
As directions directed to a location
Sit on posted signs, puffed up and ramped
Uncertain who’s behind the curtain
Who’s behind the curtain
Uncertain times
Who’s behind the curtain?
Directions in a backwards gait
Is history’s map unfolding late
And boulders build boundless beauty
To an unknown and tired entity
In the directions to which souls aligned
Under a cloud of Newtonian gravitational harm
The zigzags are cruelly fined
With each of them sounding the alarm
Gestures and brochures overrule
A previously benevolent intention
As directions send our souls off with no tool
To follow who’s behind the curtain:
It is a mirror, they failed to mention.