Detecting Angelic Footprints

||skirmishes|| ||with|| ||reality||

Erotic love is like a possession, an intensification of self. It leaves one fevered. But parental love is something altogether miraculous. It is a remedy, a self-dissolving. A spreading out into the cosmos… an echo of what it must be like to be a sun.

He mentions school is getting more boring of late
because, he thinks, his brain is getting bigger
sun peaks over horizon in my heart
then my soul gets huge, a delighted inner smile
but a deep space is cordoned off for reflecting:
I could not love this selflessly on my own
It’s certain I am assisted
modest hidden helpers invocating
my becoming, every moment,
in mysterious fashion
A half-dead shade in my orbit
blandly remarks that it’s genetics
Or at least biologics
Built-in to the machinery
What machinery is that, you erudite simpleton
Like in that movie Ex Machina?
Where Ava strides serene…

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