From the Core of the Sun

​From the core of the star everything
Is one: one thought, one value—a flow
Of photons, unending, a flow of truth,
A flow of faith, but what do we know

Here on the bottom, here where larvae
Blend and disassemble, pushing along
As a wriggling worm, avoiding harmful
Surfaces, and yet, this throng

In its urgency is free, 
Because every cause is bound to its end,
Because without the dark-winged fungus
Gnat, the shadows would descend,

The soul would decay, but when the sun
Billows light, the larvae do not
Make us squirm, and that blends knowing
The sun and the forget-me-not.