Motionless Is Deceptive

The frost is in my toes, riming the up tilted boulders, and twinkling the night sky, like a cold breath blown and whooshing clear off the plateau into the arms of the universe. Ah, standing still is spinning all axis in step to be motion free except the heated breath of the stars condensing and exploding. Just diamonds or dewdrops, a taste of eternity swallowed. Analyzed. Understood. And gone. Me scrunching down, counting the meter until full exposure. Listening for the mating cries of crickets absent in the last dying down of autumn. I hold onto my self, then. Great big hug and release. Fall into the tumble of earth churned rock. No one but me to see the castaway burning through to my side. Call them meteorite, spore, seed planted for tomorrow traveling the empty spaces of time wondering when, how, where the tick tick tick of radiation changes our bodies and our minds. To be melted down, patted onto others, cataclysmic blown and find a way to solidify, decorate and blaze.