or Ruptures & Dithers

So much depends on a rupture.
The Rapture erupts as old bonds corrupt
Releasing, _decreasing the nothing
And no thing can exist
Or insist itself upon what consists
With bliss
_{Fully under}
Wear and tear exposed
A flare across what once was bare
Extending the Kosmos by a thin hair.

Nothing changes without cataclysm
On some level.
Summed levels unravel, suggesting past ravel
But the laws of thermodynamics
Forbid raveling
Instead we revel
(On the level)
As we re-shevel (as it were post-dis)
What was entropically engaged.

A cat climatically climbed
And glimpsed the schism
As through a prism
And landed as if risen
_{^{(How can a downward force uplift?)}}
Nine still to go ^{and to him a gift}
But to the fawning prey _below
A cataclysm.

_{^{(It would be at this point that I would proclaim great apocalyptic
Glorious gore and lust)}}

Orgiastic bacchanalia to titillate till the end is nigh-er than the biblical fire
Fanned and fueled by contrivedly banned liberating codices of bleached dead trees.

But those paths have been trodden, war-torn
Worn to warn a boy who sobbed canis lupus ionized
Crocodile tears extinguish a gaslight in darkened night lionized
^{Not a star in sight}

_{We live in twilight}

Enough shine on the ground to see shadows and sound
Like shapes on the wall of a cavern
But the stars are enshrouded
By haze that is crowded
From bottles upturned at the tavern.
I was disappointed when Jove was anointed
Eclipsing anachronist Saturn
But when one shines a light to be captured up tight
The brush strokes outlast all the splatter.

And I can’t help drifting apart and coming back drifting apart and coming back

Maybe there was a big crunch before the big bang
Maybe it drifts and falls in circular sine waves
Not a flat circular abyss staring back
Waiting for the sign which was always going to be a ^_sine wave
Of a hand.

And now that hand holds fingers flexing and feeling for
Fitting forms in which to fill with these ideas
There I go again falling away ^from _form ^from _form ^from _form
Forming for me for my forgetting, for getting better.

_{^{But back I come, something pulling me close enough for that bond
Inside a gravity well, forces are so intense that particles fundamentally averse to bonding fuse together. They are forced so close that an extremely powerful yet extremely limited field acts in the smallest of space, more idea than distance, where this internal attractive force grabs the other in an embrace that releases the energy that will facilitate life light years to go and far, far away, and this fused remainder a reminder of an unbreakable bond that survives the external forces and inverts them, converts them, and love is a nuclear connection.}}

And it just has to hold close enough long enough to take hold releasing kilojoules of luminescence by being enraptured a rupture mended and fused until the agent takes hold.

Breaks mold, I am told.

I tried to fix a plate I broke with a kintsugi kit.
The glue and glowing gold
To have you must hold
Together until the epoxy sets and cures.

Fusion from fissures
Ruptures and dithers
We think it all slithers
And withers like rope
The end of my trope
As The Beast’s back slopes
Toward entropy.

But maybe it’s sailing
Tacking not flailing
Each wave toward directions
Between air and sea.

The earth holds her fire
So not to expire
The breath that inspires
The will to respire

Exhale now with me.

Exhale now with me.

Exhale now with me.

^{_{Exhale now with me.}}