John Grey

And Trees Fall in the Forests of the Universe

Enormous is the only word
That could explain how micro-small
The darkness makes the endless seem,
As if there's nothing there at all,

As if it weren't for my faint trail,
And my perspective, so hair thin,
The distances would all implode,
Would, at each quadrant, end, begin.

Amazing how just being here,
I hold the universe in place,
Each photon ray, each quantum flash,
Has only me, as source to trace.

And just one breath, one random thought,
Equate to this reality,
As far from human as it gets
Is one more human property.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Stand, Washington Square Review and Floyd County Moonshine. His latest books, Covert, Memory Outside The Head, and Guest Of Myself are available through Amazon. He has work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and Open Ceilings.