© 2012 Steve
King
All rights reserved
The highest laws notwithstanding...
there are things
there are things
that accelerate to vacuum,
hurtling straight through complex time and space
across the undisplaced fabric
of infinite emptiness—
unbalanced quanta at the helm,
terminal velocity,
scanning for some fixed horizon,
tumbling to a missing point of mass—
ah…these vectors of surplus desire!
Each habit of affinity
instills a mad sense of place,
even to uncentered orbits,
even in an empty room.
It’s easy to remain relentless
on well traveled paths;
dying hard, the habits,
tracing new maps written in old scars,
so many things so well-survived,
scars so profoundly you,
there would not else-wise be a you.
So forget that silly inverse square—
just another law that begs repeal:
things at the furthest distance
always pull the most,
and absence yields the one metric
to reckon all strong forces of the heart.