To Source and all beyond,
As Source has Source,
Unbound by time or speed of light.
What is my place in this abyss?
Of black holes and dark matter
Wrapping the galactic plane
Like a mother’s blanket for a babe?
What is within me expands and contracts,
Pushing away astral travelers and dodging debris
Floating by from past voyages
And cast away by Jupiter and
Left unanchored to each cell in my being,
Where pain begets pain
From collisions in comets’ midst.
Is Soul dark and dank, like
Empty space, a vacuum sucking
Life from kindred spirit?
Or is Dark Matter a coat
Woven for me to wear
In all time and ages
for many life ways under the stars?
Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard
Image: Hubble Space screenshot https://www.google.com/search
Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver 