by Stephanie Small

Created on: February 06, 2011

In search of Plasma

There is frustration.
The bright flares of life, coming and going.
Extinction.

I look through the pages, wonder at our new creations.
I wonder if we made plasma.
I wonder if its not dangerous, playing with such heat.
Humans playing with fire.
When we can barely save our planet
So I hope we know what we are doing.

One day came and went
Marked by the collision of lead
And in the sparks created from its explosion
We prayed that one story would be proven true
But the white coats argue and hum
They cannot determine what happened,
and neither can I.

I put little thought to it though, as I doggedly search
Answers come and go, but the ultimate questions
cry out for answers that will never come.
If we tore into another plane, would we know it
Would we pray that nothing bad leaked from the wound
Between worlds?

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