Love is the only thing moving. Stars wander

Love is the only thing moving. Stars wander
the heavens in strange patterns, love is all
that is seen and known. This wild ubiquity
of nonsense, this game of making sense of what

revolves about us. Love is the only thing
that's ever made, the movement of the oceans
and rivers reveals its secret. I imagine
a field without depth, a pasture without light

and a sky without clouds. These stars wander,
earth is the only thing moving. The illusions
of orbits, of language and sense, of ethics

and politics with meaning. She is the only
thing there is to apprehend in the whirling
movement that has developed around me.