Fountainhead of Faith
by Jonas Birge
A storm of stars crosses her Noxious eyes -
she is reincarnated as a Aristoclean child
the euphoria she feels as she is brown-dwarfed
by the infinite black is an unparalleled parallax.
These are secrets even adult gods have forgotten;
these moments can only be artificially induced.
A pulsating rhythm flickering
in the dead of space, syncopated
by sleep and death, dreams and hope.
The universe is sound and noise; muted
and refuted in her anamnestic voice.
Dilated pupils and smiling innocently enough,
romanticism and speciesism in apex tapes.
These are things of legend, not of harmony.
This shivering elation of revelation:
this is the fountainhead of religion
and the vestigal wonders of life.
A storm of stars made bastard children
when they married human imagination.
© 2012 Jonas Birge
Jonas Birge lives in Sweden where he usually spends his days copying words. But as a born futurist and rÉverist, his idle hands produce nepenthean poetry potent enough to provoke nervous systems.
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