Even now, I am becoming
wind, something less flesh, more
movement, more current, less
here, more everywhere. Though
the moment I think I know this truth,
the knowing re-solids me,
makes me into clay that pretends it is wind.
But becoming clay again, I am destined
to crumble, disintegrate, until
I am dust and once again one
with the wind. How to trust anything
then, except this infinite becoming and
rebecoming—and whatever
it is that is alive inside it all.
That. I put my faith in that.
Awake at night
while others sleep
I watch meteors fall
in glittering array,
inscrutable patterns.
Multiple fiery tails
each minute
brush the cold black
sky, sweep the cave
of my heart.
I cannot decipher the
hieroglyph of meteors,
except one passage
repeated, descending:
In zero g, space fragments
drift, invisible to human eyes.
But mesmerized by gravity,
meteors burst through
Earth's atmosphere and blaze
a firetrail across the sky:
It takes unbearable friction
and the annihilating fall
to ignite their glory light