Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy...
Sunshine almost always gets me high. – John Denver
Millions of miles is a meaningless measure.
And yet we talk about forever
As if you could touch its glassy surface.
Photons?
The average person is riddled with them
And the cumulative effect
Is the hand of a god.
We are terrestrial.
We are the universal constants.
We vibrate with the act of collection.
The trillions of moving parts
Hold us softly like a bed of nails.
Somewhere buried in all of this machinery
My passionate will contorts
And sings with a voice of recombinated phantoms.
There is an I! There is an I! There is an I!
And for me alone you have vastly traveled
Long, long, frigid ways
To strike my eyes with your golden darts
Of pure reverberant joy.
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