A notebook bulletin board
tacked on when randomly bored
applied thoughts in a scribblebook
open for the world to look who passes by
so fast to see like a needle in a haystack we
safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be
at least you see languishing up and into pristine
blossoms for you to pick and sniff and hope
they don't make you sick.


Lacuna Spawn

image courtesy of NASA

Imagine the vastness of outer space containing all the untold galaxies in the universe as one single continuum wherein each solitary constituent pinpointed by a star and further delineated by every last planet spinning in revolutions about these stellar spots as if they are each caught in the grand twisting flow of just one particular bifurcating river of time.  

Envision our group human consciousness sparked by the interaction between our planet's inner magnetosphere in revolutionary synchronicity with our own star's astrosphere and think of this flowering of ideas as electromagnetic campfires situated along the banks of the Amazon or the Mississippi winding deep through the wasteland of eternal night. 

The trick is to suddenly realize with a dawning comprehension as assured as the next forthcoming daybreak that these bonfires along the repositories of sunshine sliding along the lone river of time are phenomenological manifestations triggered and retained by the process of this estuary's exclusive transition along the proximity of its emerging course.   

Think of witnessing our great starry midnight as if having somehow peered into the black mirror of our collective soul swimming through unimaginable depths behind ahead and beyond not just our own capacity to exist but rather as that dazzling echoed incandescence serving best as the reminder we are now precisely balanced on the fulcrum of being alive.    

Make way for the headroom to recognize with supernal clarity that our common dream of achieving alien contact with extraterrestrials has more to do with reflecting upon our own mortality and remains nothing but a misplaced longing to establish meaningful contact with ourselves before at last being flung headlong from our very own starring legend.