Brownian Motion

The jittery existence of
Stimulated particulates
On jagged paths of random-walk

Would tell the world
Of happenstance
And of the Branch that Adam (Atom) stalked;

Would hold the days accountable
By the hours,
The hours by the minutes,
The diminution nested
Solemnly in itself.

The invagination of existence,
So pregnant with chance,

The invaginated, jittery-being
Would hum the white-noise in my ear;

Would counteract its own fact
So that patterns might appear--

As if to serenade itself
With movements of cricket, wood thrush, and bullfrog--

But not being filled on that scale--
Comes the inevitable Mozart.

The crazy twitch in my eye is a homecoming
of sorts--atomic self-awareness

The motion pops on the celestial frying pan.
Here we discern a world,
There, a super nova.
And yet there, the outlines of a black hole,
A singularity,
A nick in the glass of the ethereal continuum
Where the accretion folds in on itself
And the particulates do a new type of jitter-dance.
But the jazz is the same.
It finds itself again in the improvised scaffold.

And the bubbles babble (Babel) up that tower.
They effervesce and then coalesce;
They ascend, they aspire to meaning, to totality.

Then that dragon, too, will swallow its own tail.