I throw scrawled notebook pages
into the welcoming hands of the wind.
Radio tuned to static, droning
sound of the cosmic background radiation.
The direction of the breeze is unknown,
Chaos emerging from simple rules.
Occasionally, ticker tape cannons explode,
gold and silver cascade in random paths.
I have been carried by circumstance,
destinations visited by a roll of the dice.
Planets and galaxies are just seeds
clumped together, growing where they land.
My thoughts are carried over the fields
away from me and into the air beyond.