In this brush, quarks flip topsy-turvy, up and down, top to bottom, charming strange electrons and protons to smash together in orbital attraction, while excited gluons carry chaotic forces. In this brush, a quantum world explodes, rockets skyward shattering every stratosphere in its path, and lays bear a crescendo of crashing realities.
In this brush, electricity strikes, and chemicals light up axons triggering nervous bundles to fire signals in fierce alarm. Surging through tissue, electrolytic voltage flares, racing fast, straight to the center of the system, not the head, not like this, but straight to the heart. In this brush, an electrochemical hurricane rages, tears up like total war, leaving a furious flame consuming everything in its path.
In this brush, slowly, out of a thick haze of concussion, the cerebral lumbers and struggles to recover the cortex, lost and bewildered as it is, a thousand steps behind. Cold synapses awake in a dull fog, resist the incoming warmth, but eventually warm to the heat, too hot! and scream scrambled codes in chaos to billions of neighbouring neurons. In this brush, confusion reigns, stupidity is crowned, and foolishness seizes the day, nearly compromising the florid armada of sensation.
In this brush, the celestial sphere looks down in terror, gathers his aerial army of water vapours and ions and storm clouds and lightnings, and out from his storehouses unleashes a terrified electric light-show of scintillating sight, soaring sound and frightening fury. Dark clouds rumble over the sky, block out the sun, and commence their array of battle tactics. In this brush, the sun hides away, the sky darkens, the barometric pressure builds, heady ozone overcomes, and the landscape is lashed in stripes and strikes of felling fear.
In this brush, vast spaces of the heavens contort and contract, hearing whispers of uncertainty on the solar winds. Stars turn red, bulge and fire flares at the sight, quasars explode x-rays in wild abandon, galaxies reconsider their spin, and their hearts, the black holes, flinch and release their hoard, only to consume it again, to be sure the news is true. In this brush, a universe flies in conflict and contention, excited labour pains birth stars before their time, black holes collapse upon their singularity, and a cosmic tsunami races across the expanse, leaving prospect and pitfall in its wake.
In this brush, is the touch of one with another. Simply, innocently, common-place. No sound was heard. No mention was made. No reaction was seen. No memory will remain.
But here, in this simplicity, a quantum microcosm erupted, a bodily world leapt, a feeling place flinched, an intellectual harbour burst, an airy place replied, and all the heavens boomed.
In this brush, the worlds moved, and passion bloomed.