The Architecture of a Moment
The Architecture of Chaos and a Star
You must have chaos within you—
not a storm to be calmed,
but a raw, swirling nebula
of all you have lost,
and loved,
and feared.
A fertile, screaming dark.
Let it spin.
Let it howl.
Let it carve canyons
through your ribs,
Because this holy, terrible friction
ignites possibility.
Do not ask for peace.
Ask for the courage
to hold within you a collapsing star,
and from that silent, final shatter,
new gravity is born:
a single, spinning point of light.
A dancing star.
The only kind of order
worth having.
Notes: Rooted in the oldest English tradition, Anglo-Saxon accentual verse follows the rhythm of breath and heartbeat rather than syllable or rhyme, where meaning is carried by cadence, image, and pause.
The Architecture of Chaos and a Star (Accentual Verse)
You must hold chaos.
Not a quiet storm,
but a raw nebula,
lost love and fear,
that fertile dark
that screams and spins,
that hollows bone
and carves its canyons.
Let friction spark;
let fire begin.
From holy heat
comes possibility.
Ask not for peace.
Seek courage,
to hold a star
collapsing within.
From a silence break,
new gravity rises:
one burning point,
a dancing order.
The only kind
worth having.
Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge prompt: Possible. Poems/prose, some AI/images ©Misky 2006-2025.

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