Matterphor

We travel in spirals,
within spirals.

It's a bigger picture,
and more beautiful
than your circles.

Yet when the loops tighten,

as time's fingers around

the trachea of our

solar system,

we know, even the spirals

are not the whole picture.

Your irises,

forged from Neptune's ice,

follow the orbits

and fear the heat of friction.

They do not fear melting,

but evaporation

and the end of all things seen.

It's this fear that keeps our lenses frozen,

fixated on hypnotic rotations,

unable to focus on

the constant.

It's this fear that keeps our lenses frozen,

fixated on hypnotic metaphors,

unable to break from the pattern of the present.

Unable to acknowledge a wider perspective

that can glimpse the self-identifying verity

amidst the coils of our models of truth.

Steadfast and unwavering,

he wants to be perceived

and he exists outside

of our spirals.

Therefore we must adapt

and live according to the constant

who outlives our spirals,

so we can rise on the day

orbits are no longer needed,

and can refrain from a dizzy whirling

on refashioned soil,

blindly before the source

for whom all suns

are a metaphor.

Psalm 19: 'The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork... Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer.'