invenire
Reinvention
Of the heart
Parts of me
Electrons spin
Madly
Boson orbits
Collocate
My eyes are
Useless in a
Realm of
Chronic night, must
Use feel and
Touch and smell;
I taste the ink and
Oil and dab the brush
Onto canvas I can’t
See, neither can
You, we must feel
Our way to paint, to
Burn, to breathe.