Fed on the Universe
In the belly, in the brain
Vocabulary is drawing
The long-dead past
And the descendent divinity
Of the future
The sun producing
Powerful dreams
In space-time
A word can do this
The stove of love
It burns, cooks, is fetched
By hungry onlookers
Underneath my skin
Even in the simulations
I observe and create
The layers of magic
In the heart of mirrors
That print, rock, hologramize
II
And for a moment
I knew the hand
That is the mover
Nature, God, Time
Feeding on everything
More than dopamine
Fill there is nothing
But one supreme
Love of life, the endearment
That survives all wars
The gratitude that endures
All obstacles, persecutions
Struggle, that spirit
That feeds the fire
To create, to sing, to write.
Wuji Seshat 