Fractal
 
Here buds
A yellow galaxy;
There blooms
A purple star;
A wilting
Constellation
We now can
See afar.
I trace my
Summer peonies
From bud to
Bursting flower;
Like fractal
Constellations
They wither
In their hour.
My summer
Is a fractal
Of vast
Eternity,
A fractal
Constellation
My summer
Peony.
The macro-things
Of Nature
In micro-copies
Lie,
But of what
In space-time
Are fractal
You and I?
Dead galaxies
Dropping petals
Are none of
My concern;
My garden’s
Dying peony
Is not a thing
I mourn.
Unwept, the death
Of galaxies,
Unwept,
A flower’s fall;
In space-time
A broken heart
Is no fractal
At all.
Loneliness, despair,
And loss,
And all our
Human scars
Have no
Macro-copies
Among the
Swirling stars.
But Demeter mourned
Persephone
In Dis’s dungeon kept,
And sadness
Truly was despair
When even
“Jesus wept.”
If subatomic
Orbits
Match planetary
Forms
And double helix
Matrices meet
Interstellar
Norms,
Seek not our like
Among the stars
In fractured   
Nature’s odds.
We are not
Space-time fractals;
We’re fractals
Of the Gods.