Friday, June 10, 2016

BIRTH and DEATH (A Poem on How Cells Transcribe)


The ebb and flow

Of the storm;

Overhead crackles

And flashes of movement


The vacant crucible

Sits and ponders


The shell fluid

In motion,

Transmitting and morphing


The rash of messages

On passages that move,

The hum of machinery.

Action and reaction

Touch and turn

Each touch a turn

Each turn a touch.

Molecules within

Molecules around

Floating, ethereal.

Each molecule, a war

And peace within.

Captured in time,

Enslaved to the cause

Of motion.

Some blessed to grow

Others to cease.

Some move 

Others stand

Some change

Others hide,

Some ugly in folds

Reveal beauty in action

Others ethereal in looks

Sit idly by.

Time lingers

As each motion intensifies

The girding machine rumbles

In silence.

There are no cynics

No arbiters

Only touch and go

And time.

The epi on genes

Like an umbrella

Of shades.

A fountain

Of truths.

Of present and days of yore

Of futures to be realized

Of stories yet to be told.

Sunk in the touch.

How this fits

And that doesn't

How this molds

And that swims away.

Motion, is all

Yet all is in mirth.

Transcribing they touch

The actions of another.

In so doing, death

In so doing, birth.

No comments:

Post a Comment