JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

This was no prearranged assignation

no product of celestial matchmaking

it was a chance meeting

 

Between the hastening nebulae

where wisps of thinnest music

had blown their lonely melodies

desolate and melancholy

cold as the galactic emptiness

uninhabited by dreams of unborn worlds

 

And then without command or edict

(call it an accident of magnetism)

a meeting – impossible and unpredicted

yet in the slow unfolding reaches of eternity

such meetings might have happened

once in a trillion star-filled randomness

 

A molecule of hydrogen

(itself created by some unlikely act)

collided with a wandering atom of oxygen

and one of carbon, wrenched from its own

meandering path through uninhabited skies

 

Just a chance meeting

under the empty windows of the stars