When you expand from me past vast rock forms
and iron temples—monuments of past lives—
and stretch from sight in distant light, this corm
of root-heat senses our tension revive
earth’s simmered surface. This blaze quivering
crimson across horizons, they tell me,
reveals sun’s majestic power: fire rings
dancing in waves, remains of Ptolemy’s
ancient Almagest observations.
Yet
we know it’s our grasping wavelength burning
cosmic bright as space unfolds. We forget
sometimes, don’t we, our essence? How yearning
grows through time and separation. Or why
passion flares infrared to human eyes.
Roger Armbrust
December 7,
2012
