In the blink of an eye, I warp into the orbit of a beautiful cluster of stars.
My senses overload with ecstasy . . .
I buzz, fasciculate,
and gradually involute
towards the future black hole that the brilliant bodies will become.
Gravitational forces shunt blood
to and fro my psyche
as my pendulous spiral
swings through states
of existential joy and heavenly visions
of scathing heat and resentful sentiments
of countless blessings and enrapt gratitude.
My spin constantly
evolves and devolves
into moments of synchrony
in which I encounter the the perpetually climactic
life force that manifests and magnetizes me
and into periods of incongruity
in which I feel untethered, cold, and wantonly
drawn
to escape this firmament
to pierce through this flammarion engraving
to leap into the valence shell of the nearest multiverse.
I must retrace my trajectory to
pinpoint and probe
the multitude of critical junctures
in which I spontaneously
uncoupled my rotational speed with that of my nucleus
disjointed the magnetic moment between myself and my turbine.
This is my probe. My attempt to swivel my eyes in the direction of my spin in hopes that my body, spirit, and mind will hastily realign with my a priori emotive momentum.
Life is an eternally recurrent shadow run.
This is a respawn to beat your best.
