Saturday 2 February 2019

This is How the World Moves

(A repost. Fragments.)

Last night it rained cats and dogs
And finally it rained fish, and
I said to the sky, have you no sense
Of scale?

From time to time, we all of us become aware
That the ground on which we stand is moving,
Always moving, layers upon layers, spinning in the void,
Its surface floating, splitting, cracking.
As below, so above; the tiniest movements begin
The tremors that threaten to shake us all to pieces.
A word, a gesture, the beginning of a journey,
The seed of an idea. This is how the ground shifts.
Butterfly-hurricane notions. Inspirations, tiny simple motions,
Shift all things in ways so few of us dare predict.

This is how the world moves, careering
Car-chase headlong past the annihilating obstacles of space.
And we turn around and round and fall upon our backs and
Marvel at the way our heads and vision spin
Against the unseen curve on which we lie.