Planting In Hilbert Space

Something wakes as from a dream,
Shakes itself and begins.
It is you, me, everyone who
Has been and will be.
It can see
Time, swim gravity,
Stretch its electric body
Over rises, bends,
To wonders where
Galaxies spin and what
Is born where all
Of it ends.
Every spark contains our
Hopes, sorrows.
As from a dream, I ask:
Tomorrows, please, can
You promise tomorrows?

Enchanted Object

The genie
Who grants
Wishes gardens the future
On beds of things to be
Along paths
That aren't yet:
Selves self fails to see.

Garden isn't envisioned only:

One becomes a gardener,

Nor do wishes come simply true.
The silver and smoke
Is decision.
The genie ahead is you.