Strings of Truth.

Inside just one of,
a hundred million,
beams that glow,
under the control,
of Universal starlight,
our few weary shadows,
somehow find a way inside,
find shelter in the perpetuity,
of nothing, and of everything,
from which we’ve come to hide;
while time spins by,
in Quantum Strings,
we close our eyes,
against the starlight’s shine,
and hear against the chaos,
a galactic symphony,
a universal species,
with one dialect, one voice,
one message to bring,
one beautiful song to sing;
the tears fall from our eyes,
as we listen to these things,
it’s all too much to grasp,
to get our heads around,
as such simple-minded beings,
and afterwards –
upon the whip of the last passing,
symphonious Quantum Strings,
and after the pain and the love,
that this old star burned in, genetically,
it’s a dream, where we are –
we can’t stay long,
our minds have both gone
to return to the likes of humanity,
is a painful suction in our ears,
an acid poured in our eyes,
our shadows still hum,
the symphony’s string tune,
shadows have much better memories.

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