I had pushed my pleasure
To the very bottom
Crushed beneath my feet
Beaten, battered, smashed
Eggs that can no longer withstand weight
Filled with the same star stuff
The fragile yolk of a sun
I found a cup of nothing
I tipped the cup over
Just like Ray Bradbury told me
Inside the cup
I find another universe
Mingled with the pleasure of poetry
The fragile yoke of a sun
'We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.' ~ Ray Bradbury
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