Mundane Celestial

The puddle I jumped

in as a child,

is a cloud now

white and fluffy.

The sky got its

blue from the dust

I beat off

The old mattress.

The sun found

orange shade from the

air I breathed.

The comets are

made from

the dead nail clippings

of my toes.

The stars exist

off the water

I stupidly spilled

on my book.

Saturn has rings

built of pebbles

I tried skipping

on the pond.

The burning blood

of this earth has parts

same as the kettle

of my morning tea.

The bone of the beast

of the past is what I drink

in my evening milk.

I am the mundane and the celestial.

I, she, he, we, they

are

the magic whence

came life.