Notty Bumbo, 2019
What if our dreams
Are the missing Dark Matter
Long-sought by those who study light?
Billions and billions of dreamers,
Endless nights affirming hidden time,
Filling the empty spaces between quanta
Across the depth and breadth of the Universe.
How many upon waking lose the thread,
Dreams sink back underground,
Or rise like faint fog through the air,
Leave orbit and attend to cosmic winds.
Slowly, ever so subtly, our phantasms drift,
Caught on solar winds where they cook,
The scent of hope and fear and false compassion
Settle into all the voids of probability.
Until we look outward,
Staring into the ever-expanding dark,
And one day our eyes open,
Take in the ancient light of galaxies
Filled with the voices of ancestors.
Asking to come home.
Hoping to continue our original dream.