The inertial frames of my parallel worlds
drag against each other, stalling intermittently
in bumps, wrinkling the flows plane, today
there is a snag, ripping rudely the membrane
separating them, tension of unevenness
interior absence leaving me in suspense
eschatological fear, as I am caught in the warp
between oppositely moving gravitational fields.
Am I stopped here, can I go on any more?
As I am slowly pulled apart, wrenching will
against some divine destiny, hidden in the
cosmic fabric dressing me, weighing, my mind
restless, unsure, leaving me to reorient within
markers of green trees, touching heaven
and giving some security that faith is all
that is needed to continue, freeing the gyro
counter rotations of these emotional states.
c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
October 24, 2009