HZ
He rises smiling from
the concrete and rubble
untouched, unscathed
with dreadlocks he has returned.
Arms raised, not to heaven
not to any god – to home
out there, beyond here
this existence, this ill-defined reality
to a birthplace mired in plasma,
neo nuclear processes
and colliding atomic particles.
Dark matter conceals his presence
while vibrating strings
conduct the orchestra he plays.
Chased by black holes and
chaotic matrices, jumping
from universe to universe.
The infinite energy pushing outward
ever-expanding, the waves are his horse
the asteroids iron his sword.
One foot here, the other beyond
his mind nowhere soaked in Nothing.
