Innocence Is A Bomb Set To Explode

Some things, once upset, you can’t put right

no matter how you try: egg shells

shattered, secrets told, a universe

flying apart from a single point. 

What was it like in the beginning

when everything that was

was held in that instant of infinite enthalpy? 

We live entropically

rushing to randomness

in the unhinging of molecules, the breaking apart

of ice.  Who has witnessed

a teacup fly from floor to ledge

and reassemble?  Who has imploded

from knowledge back to innocence? 

Unwind a life from the spool of potential experience –  

every gesture spins out flurries of fireworks

and shrapnel,  whirling dervishes

dancing toward ecstasy.  That’s right!

After a moment of perfect innocence

comes a lifetime of joyous unraveling,

coming undone at the seams

of restraint.  So don’t preach me

your hellfire, ‘cuz the only fire

is the fire of creation

ablaze in the hearts of stars,

that sweet fusing of atoms

shining into the far reaches

where we cling together aglow in blessed warmth,

Where innocence is a bomb set to explode.