Galaxies of Diamonds Predicted and Discovered in Your Rib Cage

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

You do not have to travel far, past stars

And past the space beyond the farthest one;

You do not have to go past moons, vast stars

In constellations, past the farthest sun;

You not need time travel sci-fi wings;

You do not need a prophet’s vision for

Eternity, infinity that springs

From nothing/everything, from loss and more;

You do not need the knowledge of the saints

To see the hidden, hear the sacred song,

Or live within mere physics laws’ constraints;

You live already in a see-through throng.

  The things you seek are in your marrow bones.

    Just hear.  Hear notes of spheres from silent tones.

© Phillip Whidden