God the Poet

I hold the galaxy in a gallon jar.

It's tights against my palm, calm, and deprived of misery.

Deep in the pores of my skins are the world's particles formed to be thin,

but they are expanding while everything spins.

There is life riveting through my veins blistering up my arm into my heart

where every spirit in this macrocosm remains.

I hold the perfect visions of intergalatic proportions.

Floating over planet, being the air you breathe and life you see.

I am the initial biology that biologist seek to discover.

I am the grand architect  of the heavens and the hell of earth.