Inter-Atomic Lightning Strikes, Phantom Particles and Gravity, Maybe (But Probably Not)

Copyright © 2009 Ernest Bloom (20090501).

My love, my love, I
loved you even before
Gorgeous George on a tiny black and white
glass tube fell like a sad Samson to Whipper
Billy Watson, which was but moments ago,
and even before Paris ever misplaced his
elegiac foot in Troy's dusty streets, or Noah
plied round and round a metallic blue sea
in that reeking menagerie, before the
glaciers melted, or extended before
that, or melted way back before that, since
about the hour when God first thought to
wind up His watch for the first time, when
those astonished angels gazed in wonder
on the face of the Deep.

My love, my love, I
loved you way back before even the sun
began to burn, before the very first star
was screwed into the night. Oh, don't
you know? Don't you realize or
understand? How can I hope to tell you, to
show you, to share with you so that
you can feel these eonian earthquakes
shivering through this my too contused
soul?

My love, my love, I
loved you over uncountable generations of
pioneers and pirates and pilgrims and miscellany
other patriots, just as I love you right now,
today, this very instant, just as I will tomorrow,
and even into the centuries and generations
we'll never know, you and I, all those
descendants who won't think of us at all,
not at all, but it's no matter, no matter at all,
my love, my heart, my beautiful one, my rose.
For my darling, this love, this love, my love,
my love, this love is destined to go on and on
without conclusion or death.