Particle Collisions

Life is a cruel lover,
Slave-driver and mistress;
We the slaves,
Subject to her biological shackles,
Whips of misfortune
And prickling, broken glass of logic vacuums,
Entropical storms and ‘chance’.

How cruel of her,
To rearrange her atomic lego
Into something so perfect
As you, my nymph and eternal command,
And not render you mine.
What brilliant torture is this,
That which no benevolence could conceive,
Only the dark and boundless chambers of space,
The chuckling mirth of the universe,
The despicable particle collider,
Whose creations dance before my eyes,
Formed beyond perfection,
Somewhere in the realm of frustration
And nuclear fission.

You are blinding,
Intangible and ignorant
As stars are
To their light.

In this great torment,
Endless swirling and reconstruction,
I wish that I could collide with you.


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