Eccentric Spheres

The future of our planet bends
around the sky, unfixed in space
a dancer in the close embrace
of Sol and planetary friends.
It’s gravity that sometimes sends
a comet falling, shining trace
across the night sky’s velvet face
and keeps the dancers turning, mends
the rifts in pinwheel galaxies.
We’re all afloat in cosmic seas
of milk or ink or sorrow’s tears,
but always on the move, like spheres
eccentric, crystalline, and full
of music playing in God’s skull.


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