you can bring back the liveliest
how the big bang was.
when the only
space stretched in nothingness
for the incipiency of infinite. the time,
nothing was of consequence and
certainly not trivial. owing to galaxy trace
laid in the spiral arm, the fire in the forest, smoke.
a bubble breathing indoors.
for you, a diffuse, just a diffuse of gas, dusty but beautiful. the milky mist whirling a blend for a universe, clouds collapsing in the core of a nest-like interstellar―a born star.
the glitter of pearls unearthing the shell,
the ripples in water when tumbled a stone
a butterfly drifting colors flowerets to flowerets.
but to me, a glimpse. glare to the radiations
gushing out of a cloud,
star, not a star?
not a star, still a star.
an oyster’s pearl, her pain turned into a jewel,
grains of dust debris endowed by an injured soul.
the stone tumbling into blues, ocean’s bottom.
a skinned cocoon not a butterfly but a worm.