Bits of Stardust

Imagination is the birthplace of joy

yet it is also the start of pain.

Life creates perfectly balanced waves of itself,

harmonics canceling out to zero.

Who'd have thought so much creativity

could be hidden within neutrality,

that clarity is only chaos

seen from far enough away?

When you stare up into the clouds,

tell me, what is it you see?

Golden puffs of cotton

shaped like circus clowns

are water vapor catching light.

Rainbow displays are purely scientific

and we are made

of the same mundane magic,

the kind that threads through wormholes

and pulses through our own electric blood.

Is it insanity,

becoming fully aware of the absurdity?

Is it sanity,

buying into the illusion?