Jell-O Mold

The Universe is a jell-o mold—
set, yet possible to pierce through
in novel ways, once you understand
the script— once every possible
change in every possible atomized
bit of matter has set in with the peach,
apple, pear pieces, improvise a symphony
against the surface, just firm enough
to liberate sense— rivers, trees, sky,
grass, all have a way of getting there
you will never know— the brain casts
itself into space, as, somewhere
beyond the Universe, something
eats us for dessert— tasty?