Brambles

Möbius strips turn two dimensions into one flat page, as inversely the pages on which our loves are twisted expand into the many worlds that Spring brings back to earth each Easter.

The curls of a girl’s hair are winds materialized in the fronds and skeins of palms in the desert air, the way the trellis of the amygdala roller-coasters the mind through nodes and conjunctions where our human struggles merge into the weave of the stellar loom.

The force that whistles through the heat and pain of the earth’s rebirth is involuntary, uncontrolled, and yet its results exist in human eyes as the epitome of sound and sense, of rhyme and meter, the united rolling of the universe, the traverse and turns that magically weave the flowers of spring year after year out of empty space, circulating from the ashes of winter the warmth of air and sun, Easter rabbits out of cosmic hats, the endless shuttle of energy’s warp that moves back and forth to materialize from the nothingness of space the verse and reverse of the cortex, out of meaningless chaos the frenzy of human connection, out of cold infinity the finite warmth of touch.

From this contradictory tangle of synapses our fathomless humanity is reborn, Easter’s crown of thorns a painful trellis of the energy which framed existence before it emerged from the wrecked chaos and riddle of time.