A watercolor river stream is pebbled with nebulae.
Along the shore, splashes of comets possess
orbits of a magnitude
no surface would dare
stick with a subject.
Here, all but thought is bent,
as Time is reflected in arched halls, pulsing.
The invisible lens obscures atomic oceans,
Tropical combustions, and shrinking suns
that ripen a frontier where matter is moot.
This synaptic geyser eclipses a universe
and shuffles about like ghosts