Falling off the edge of the world,
Outside and under the firmament, whatever a firmament is.
Outside cathedrals and courts of kings who keep on commanding ants to build pyramids with particles of jello.
Outside wandering with faeries and phantasms, who like to pull Dawkin’s hair when he’s not looking, and he never is.
Outside the tree house and through the pinwheel limbs that whirl for wonder, rebelling against the lack of wind.
Outside the moral of the story told by the Baptist minister while his jowls shake slobber onto his Sunday suspenders.
Outside twirling with the whims of all the wishes that are waiting for the wand of a genie.
Outside where all and nothing gathers in a glorious pile of feather pillows.
Outside dancing inside everything,
Outside time and inside me,
Outside space and inside you.
