the actual pingpong of the abyss

comes upon us
in many piebald
guises like so
many sharp and
shining devices
tossed and cycled
aloft by the crafty
artiste balancing
on the unicycle
on the globe
on the back
of the tortise
swimming in the
desert of the
universal skies.

Star light
spots us as
we balance
precariously
as we invert
the balancing
act by artfully
juggling
our energies
our attention
our priorities
our hopes
and fears
our urgencies
our lives.

The roots
stretch thirsty
to the liquid
web of the
spot light
starry night.
The branches
clutch our
devices offering
them Earthward
as supplications
to the Mother
as if we could honor
her with but a
single dimension
of our busyness
our distraction.
As if gravity
pulls in only
one direction.
As if the stars
make no demands
upon our being
in and amongst
them and their
gravid splendor.

Where am I?
Where are you?
It was it is
a rhetorical
question when
considered in the
context of stellar
attraction the
push me pull you
of universal flow
expanding or
contracting
depending
on the tossing
of the juggler’s
backstage dice.