No predicting this ontological panic

No predicting this ontological panic,
Inverted reflection of origin: panic!

Flying upside down in an unforeseen cosmos,
It’s surprising how infrequently we panic.

Beauty: each moment losing a new argument.
Who provides me so many to lose I panic?

People, if you refuse to share their worry,
Have a shy tendency to essentially panic.

This love’s pervading pain is not so much a pain
As a too-profound suprasensual panic.

I throw my arms around Nietzsche and the whipped horse,
Immolate myself on their altars of panic.

You and Nicola are other than space-time rides,
Even unreasons for hope, preemptive panic.