Thoughts of the Megalith

I sing of things eternal;
glad dances all around
the voice of the ancient Saxon
as he contemplated Stonehenge’s rocky testimony;
how it bloomed from the ground
with an explosion of gritty pollen
and strange insects flew from granite pistol
to basalt stamen.

And it sang:
“Go forth.
Multiply thought;
Fertilize invention.”

It is the same
When we lie counting the distance
between the stars;
And grab the Milky Way by the handle
And swing it around with delight
Until it cannot but glow brighter
Liquidous
With splendicity
Filled with ever-lusting life.