Sewing in a Rocking Chair

This is the moment
of the explosion.
This second, this
thought, this mirage
of a singularity filled
with every crazy image
of chaos that is an in-
finity. And right
when it is too much
creation; my thoughts are
buttons strung together
with dark matter,
tingling with the dark
energy of potential
fingers stitching,
rocking in a chair
made of limitless runners;
your breath
on the back of my neck.