The one who treasures the coin
Owns the legends on the obverse
As well as those on the reverse.
The one who beholds the moon
Beholds the sun, too.
A fool calls blue a favorite
And denies the light or the sky.
It is not only mothers
With eyes in the back of their heads.
Ambivalence is the truth.
There is no purpose in the wild dance –
Earth spinning around Sun spinning around
Black Hole.
(Someone called me that, once.
How flattering!
To think of my gravity as so grand
That I could move even stars’ orbits!)
The Universe has every reason to be aimless,
drawing arbitrary trochoids through time.
To see them as beautiful
Is both a privilege and a burden.
Why did Sisyphus love his boulder?
Was it covered in fascinating faces
At which he secretly smiled?