Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

A love poem: Fractals

Most intricate,
the smallest part
mirrors the whole,
infinite shapes repeating,
linear, unexpected,
infinity.
Where is chaos here?
Footprints lost and then found,
and lost again.
I remember these
dimensions in your eyes,
your skin, your tongue.
Come, let us be butterflies
and fly against the grid.

3 comments:

  1. ...and WHAT a love poem!
    I like this more the more I reread it.

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  2. Like the final lines.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Oh my...

    and ditto, those two last lines take my breath away!

    ReplyDelete