The sun beats down
On the mountain top,
Warming the bones of the world,
Easing the ache of eons
Spent shouldering the sky;
A natural Atlas.
Eventually, the heat disappears,
Lost in obfuscating clouds,
Diffused in the infinitesimal
Drops of water,
And the ache returns.
Joy is fleeting.
So is warmth,
Like the heat generated
In the electricity
Of our bodies
Dissipating
In the end,
But the thesis is the wind.
The thesis is the river.
The clouds slowly pass,
Letting the warmth
Wash over the world
In currents of
Heat and Life.
No end is the end
Even the dying
Impulses of our bodies,
Carry on to the next;
The electric heat
Of our biochemistry
Echoing forever
In sparks of immortality.
The thesis is the thesis.
The original joy is chemistry;
Life, heat, warmth.
It just gets lost
In the clouds sometimes. | DS