We are an observation of beautiful
forms. Revolving bodies inside a chamber
that spins and spits, bits and micro-bits
of blues & blood, cataclysm and bliss.
Begot from George Washington Nichols—
snatched from our Mother’s land and sea.
Forced from his form again and again, we
are fragmented glass, his beginnings reflect
our future. Some witness recurrently, others
become revolving mirrors devouring any surviving
lumen. Stolen double helixes. We coexist. In
the light, we turn dark, a multitudinous vessel.
Illuminated. Resplendent. Each other’s echo.
An observation of beautiful forms, we are.
