It's spread out like a galaxy,
Little white cells, dollops of grey cells,
And the rest of dark matter.
The brain it is,
With all its faculties spread,
Out like a jam on bread,
Disperses in little flakes,
Like fireworks bursting.
All this time,
And still left thirsting,
Scrawling and crawling,
For a drop to fall,
Here and there,
In the hope to soak,
That which still remains,
Not dissipated, unlimited domains.
When finally, aversion sets in,
Hammered and set in mould,
Suddenly the feeling,
I, me, myself only,
In all little atoms,
And every relationship,
Gone awfully cold.
The vapors rise, in molecules,
To give a new dimension
To the aging galaxy.
Shruti Goswami
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/freak-19/
