Priests and mothers alike laughed
when it was proposed that he is the center of everything I know.
That forces, still not understood,
push and pull me around in a spinning dance
like the ones I dreamt of before those forces took hold
and polarized my ideals.
Firmly in control,
but with his soul's solar flares reflecting my tilted axis,
fires burn in passionate eyes,
and I can see only by the light
that he casts on my life.
Finger tips brush across skin
like sunlight on morning cheeks,
each photon preserved in poetic eternity,
as it traveled through emptiness from my solar system's heart.
It's worth the dizziness of my travel
to arrive in summer close by his side
to soak in those rays,
and sneak raised glances up at skies that are his eyes,
blue as though in tribute to my oceans below.
With gazes that could move heavens
and ideas that shine as numerous
as the stars in his velvety backdrop,
heliocentricity has become a sure truth in my life.
