Pupil of the universe

Nothing is ever quiet
Not even the night
Whose irreverent spawn
Mock the weary day
With a cacophony of incessant chatter
An audible static mirroring
The billions of microscopic starbursts
Which give black its color

Still nothing
As compared to each galaxy of thought
Filling the bowl of my soul too small
For such violent moon tides, spilling
In waves of deaf insects
Pouring over the landscape of my sanity
Immune to the wrath of my attention’s vehement protest
A flood of filth
Corrupting my peace with the stain of its undeniable being

And when the moon is absent
I cannot see the forest
Not for the trees
Whose roots hold the earth upon which I stand
But for the shadows of my mind
Whose insatiable hunger often turns on itself
Shadows strengthened by the brilliance of my insanity
Attempting to comprehend the incomprehensible
For what is man at most
But what he is at least

In this time of darkness
I desperately climb through the soil of history
Starving for the virgin air my spirit would breathe
Never-minding the stench of defecation which clings to me
Or the blood I spend to make my sky a new ground
Ever seeking love’s light
A pupil of the universe