These Cells Are Passages

Heart line, head line, fate line
Phone line--
We are connected.
We are more than bubbles
escaping from a glass,
more than an irrational number
hiding in rationality.
We are connected.
I am the colors, the shapes,
the tongues of your people,
the freckle on the earth,
the rabbit down the hole,
greater than
the Great I Am--
We are connected.
I assume any energy,
any particle, any wave.
I assume the prickle
of gooseflesh on your arm.
I am the whir of the hard drive,
the engine, I am
the calendar year, I am any calendar,
I am the second between
the words you speak, I am
the treble in your song,
the inspiration for your song,
the muse in your dreams.
We are connected.
Whatever makes sense to you, I can be.
Your heart muscle keeps time,
keeps the rhythm--
the ultimate machine,
the ultimate portal.
Through it, we are connected.
The electricity in your heart, your brain,
the fabrics woven
to create you--
the ultimate portal.
Through them, we are connected.
The wind, the breath,
the ocean floor bathed in darkness--
the corners of each mind,
the secret of each child--
the unseen order, untouchable,
unbreakable threads connecting
all that ever was and all that ever will be,
beyond time, beyond measure,
beyond control,
beyond full comprehension and interpretation,
all mundane and significant,
all beautiful and overwhelming,
all fragile and alight,
all of them and all of you:
through them, through you, we are connected.