Tell me, can the yearning for something
ever become so heavy, so dense, that
and makes the wished for
the longed for
the ached for
exist again?
And you say:
imagine the vacuum of eternity;
far too empty and far too cold.
It is held in the physics of yearning,
cradled in space, stretched across time.
and in that universe,
the wishing is hydrogen
the wanting, helium,
and longing
is the fusion that fuels the stars.
The hard iron ache
will never leave.
Supernova breakdowns pepper
the vast expanses with platinum shrapnel.
And in all the many worlds,
carbon recollection leaves its mark:
filling your mouth with ashes;
blinding your eyes with diamonds.
And what if it never was? I say.
The neurons travelled the path
of that narration so many times
that imagination is made
A memory.
Illustration: Risa Moro