A prophet once wrote, “We are all made of star stuff”
But the truth is far less noble—
For we are made of the stuff in between stars too:
Vast, empty spaces, lonely and unfathomable
From the quark’s point of view.
When I press my lips to your flesh,
I match my empty spaces to yours;
Rubbing void against void,
I am met with fire.
You who taught me to believe in the cosmos,
In energy from nothing, in the divinity of flesh—
Fall with me now.
Stretch your empty spaces toward mine.
For us the conservation of matter has no power.
Laws were made to be broken.