Poetry

Limitless

One hundred eighty-six thousand
Miles per second
Is the speed of light
In a vacuum.
Says Einstein,
Nothing can move faster.
It is the cosmic speed limit.

But, I ask, what is the speed of consciousness?
Surely entanglement
Knows no leash. Some days
(Or even more often)
When consciousness leaks in,
Unrestricted and instantaneous as it is,
I try not to slam on the brakes.

I don’t know about you,
But the knowing I get is this:
Be endlessly untidy
In strewing subatomic love particles
During each arc from waking to dreaming.
Let there be light
In your eyes
When you smile into someone else’s.

I think of this:
It took thirteen point eight billion years
(A really long time by our feeble yardstick)
For this consciousness
To wend its way through infinity
And big bang in me. I don’t want to now
Be one to slow it down.

Remember (I tell myself):
My eyes sparkle into others
At the relatively slow rate of
One hundred eighty-six thousand miles per second.

Compare this
To love’s consciousness
Which knows no upper limit.
Instantly, insistently, it speaks:
Be a small (but mighty) bang.
The bottom line?
Take that heart off the brake.

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