in my shroud,

 I am blind to Your brilliance.

Larval squirmings, procedural dues, envelop

mind and consume corpse so that all I feel is the pain

of becoming; the razor-edge ritual, this

infernal breakdown of internal structure,

this corpuscle soup I slaver and

squirm in throttles

all impetus.


in order to fly,

legs must be leashed.  In order to soar,

wings must be hammered thin as air.  Remake me.

Reset each molecule, retune each cell, that each atom

would sing the frequency of its conception, that

restoration and healing would croon cocoon.

That larval limping and caterpillar

crawl would collapse, gutted.

And the writhe, be


Beauty in Microcosm

I have a daughter who loves tiny things.  She loves all things miniscule; she sees details as full of infinite potential.  And considering that each of us is built from billions of tiny cells, she may just have a point.

All life is built on twining ladders of ethereal links -DNA, programming infinite variations of infinite proteins into chains of information which tell our hearts when to constrict, guide digestion, help our body to fight the common cold.  It is the ‘mini’ that drives our muscles, encodes our eye colour, ensures propogation of the species.  Imagine the huge hands of God attaching a ladybug’s wings, designing the intricacies of elemental compounds, adjoining the 2 ‘H’ to the ‘O’…

Beauty in microcosm – this, then, may be the driving force which flows through all beauty, tying it into a ribbon packaging proteins and defining materials one from another.

baby owl.       these tiny plants are the real deal.  how cute is this      wood cells

snowflakes       raindrops     They're so tiny!

Do you see beauty in the ‘small stuff”?