FIRST BIRDS

What do you call this place…
this spot right here,
or is it…
This place of neither cell
nor soul,
Where ordinary sparks
and juices, common
creature mechanisms,
Leap from nerves
to…
What do I call it,
Take flight like first birds
into…this place.

This place where Up and Down
Strange, Charm, Beauty
become adjectives instead of nouns.
Where quarks and quasars
could be spooned from cereal bowls.
Where science becomes conscience
and self-conscience.

I imagine it as a bridge
spanning earth and heaven
as E to mc2.
But I don’t know what to
call this place,
Unless my name suffices,
And you call it by yours.