the apposites of opposites

bonds of gossamers are like constellations
waiting to be watched under scopes or naked eyes
with a study of aesthetics than mere classifications
hoping that God’s Creations will be loved —

I opened up the door of a basement
it looked akin to the attic
I guess this is is the kind of conversation
roots have with branches
soil and rocks
clouds and air
need the bark
needs to mix and mate —

I saw seeds that reminded me of nests
all trying to breathe and grow with some symmetry
all unique and inherited; a quasi-pattern, a quasi-harmony as God intended

you see boulders are like flutes they sing too
with voices wide and far
and boulders are like shrubs
they can be picked and scattered

I guess that is the bond between bones and feathers
they rustle like dews and branches signifying seasons
and can become sepia-gray underneath smoothness and pressure
we can only name some stars as we can only name some spiders.▬


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