The Scientist Dreaming

He dreamt of quantum mechanics.
Coursed down the rivulets of time and space.
In his palm there rested the sands formed in stars,
now long gone but alive in different forms.
His matter was loose within him,
though "within" lost its meaning.

In magic and momentum spun the tops of nuclei.
Every single one of them he admired in his wonder.

Diving into his own mind he found the hearth
of his soul, and the furnace of his being.
The smithy of all that churned and stirred within.
Metal or maybe electricity, perhaps a little of both.

The frames of thoughts were made known to him,
their physical bodies and their intricacies.
Their fleeting lifespans slowed to a millennium.
For through millennia upon millennia both he and they
were put together, according to nature's supreme pleasure.
What esoteric riddles were solved by him then were soon forgot.

And somewhere in the ocean of stars in the upper spheres
he caught the briefest of sights of other shapes and other forms.
Movements in the void, altering the great rhythm.
Phantoms that peered in, for but a moment.
Other minds? Other worlds? Just something other?

Bodiless at the end of his journey he found himself
somewhere warm, somewhere familiar and yet unknown.
Resting in the core of a sun he slept, or awoke, once again.

M.M. — 22-Mar-2016