18/365: A Miracle and Meaning

What a miracle it is that we presume meaning,
that we believe and cleave and love
through long days and nights,
and then shorter ones,
and shorter ones still,
as they go.

We take on matter and meaning as blankets,
wrapping ourselves warm in them,
creating books and definitions,
philosophies, equations,
metaphysical conceits.
We draw paths.

We throw our bodies out against the void
a dense smattering of bright stars,
our love affair against the dark,
but steer short of its perimeter
in a fight against the slip
off square earth.


I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.