I Have an Idea. It Looks Like

​I have an idea. It looks like 
Two black holes colliding
Or like an orange or like
Tectonic plates sliding.

These lines of longitude
These galactic filaments
Distress the soul and
Only show her lineaments.

Before there were atoms,
There was plasma,
The molecules emerge 
From the miasma,

And after the chains
Of the the swing 
Of my thoughts smear
Beyond patterning

Their soul is freed
Flying above the shale,
The volcanic rock,
The sedimentary trail,

But here we may err,
And with our heart swollen
We spoil the fruit, our
Actions accidents or stolen

And we think that we shall free
The taste of the berry,
And advance its growth, we think
That we are visionary,

Only the power of creation
Dissolves the grain,
Frees the soul, 
Releases the crane.

It dances in the orange 
Dawn. Chase away the fox
That gnaws the grapes
And terrifies the peacocks.