imagine
you are the mighty surfer
taming the waving of the sea,
but you are a glorious shimmering blob,
a single little bubble,
a transparent, refracting prism,
just hovering,
sometimes even touching
upon a wave
of an obscure origin
and flattening dark end
imagine
of what was before
and what comes next,
of things and nothings
and ideas and beliefs,
but there are only possibilities,
probabilities that collapse into necessities
a chaos ordered, determined of
uncertain origins or rhythms,
tangents upon curvatures of spaces and times
of worlds centuries apart and inches close
yet never close enough to contact,
non-perceivable assumed dimensions
under the constant cry of the eternal light
imagine
you exit to where there is no exit
just to look at what’s inside
and build more bubbles out in the nowhere
not to feel alone in the dark,
but this transforms nothing to something
by this simple given thought
and then you run back into symmetries
for a meaning all in all,
on a stage of equal weights
on which singulars are stars
imagine
