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per amica silentia lunae

or, across the ferny brae with the evil voodoo celt

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poem - difficulties with space and time
Inspired by a conversation I had with Del (referenced here):

Tales demand creation. When we travel, we carry narrative-
Bearing bones of story beyond the shores of sequence,
Of dimension. And when our heads are set afire,
Spans and moments may flee that fearful light,
But time and space return, hearth-brick solid,
Remaining after the flame subsides. But what if leaving
Is leap, not journey? Not even fall and return, but
Simply gone- unbodied -and back again?
How do we split the crystal grown from seed, unfolding
Into fractal flower, each plane vital, sudden,
Simultaneous? Some gems defy the cutter's art.

- 1/19/2012