The Unchangling

I wish I could say anything changed

the dawning takes eternity fragments

and hurls them toward infinite fleeing stars

Everything in motion, nothing changes

Matter is vibration, music of particles

anything in the soup remains there

cooling, coalescing, and dispersing

I always come back to this place

trying to make changes

how can I even find the tiny machinery?

it is locked in a border zone between

nothing and something.

How do I bring into my magnifying vision,

within range of the tools I haven’t even

invented,

the ghostly sound of a web

shivering in a whisper of dawn?