Time expands, reeling
Space folds down, diminished
To strings and wormholes.
Without your warm, certain presence
In three, wholesome dimensions
I am all at sea with these buildings
Unless you anchor me.
You, my gravitational constant
Telling me up from down
So I may walk through the valleys
Of my home planet
Keeping balance
Between rooted earth, adventuring sky.
WILFRED JOHN