plasma

september 19, 2007

 
You get to choose your fate.
It's hard work.
You have to push and tug,
feeling the scraping of iron against rock,
hearing its high gravelly grinding.

Until in the thick of struggle,
click,
the compass makes a quarter-turn,
the fields align.
You've struck potential well.
You vibrate with sudden harmony,
damping against this new equilibrium.

You barely have time to wonder,
is it stable?

Your souls keep time,
Locked into the immanent roller coaster,
you let the field carry you,
soaring in Van Allen arcs,
glowing through swooping plasma,
new colors, new space, new light,
light like you've never seen before.

Learn physics with your viscera,
riding the solar whirlwind,
till it carries you through some kind of destiny.