Sonnet #402

 Gravity, that trickster fiend, finds us floating free

Alone, and calls to pull us in where 

We will be connected, forge a planet, swirl

Dance around the orbit of the shimmering seas

And closer, now, they come together, until it’s tight

Really need some personal space, actually,

Like could use a break from all these 

Electrons and elbows and shouting and fight

Breaks out, and breaks out again, and boom

We’re boiling, now, slowly roiling around

We wrap to the edge where we become

A quiet, hard, lonely thing, craving someone

To push into us, the magma churns, we surf

The shell of turmoil back into the explosion