With all

One day, not distant, not far,
Awoke I to an orange ball of light,
a marble of fire in the heavens,
Laid I my boot upon its neck,
striding into the distant stars,
Never I a glance over my shoulder,
eyes turned to the mysterious universe,
There I became lost within the void,
finding that for which I had searched,
Lifting I fingers of contradiction,
truth pulsed beneath my callous skin,
Knowing I am one with creation,
that creation is one with all,
this day, this moment, this now.

©2017, Donald Harbour

Night wind

Hubble telescope; Pillars of Creation in the Eagle Nebula.

The celestial wind is whispering tonight,
a voyager from the beginning of time,
dusty ancient castaway breath of the stars.
Where have you been, what have you seen,
did you skirt the Pillars of Creation,
did you watch the birth of new stars,
did you teach the planets a song to sing?
The sky is your concert hall, your ballroom
Is it you that makes the heavenly lights twinkle.
There the bright pinpoints beckon, toying,
challenging creatures to ride your zephyr,
feeling the breeze of your alluvium is kindred,
and, I wonder if what you are, am I also?

The enigmas of Mars

Mars

with Curiosity humans peered
the scene is desolate
a dry bed of sand and pebbles
water once flowed here
there was life in abundance
now replaced by the events of time
eons of the past brought change
only thin aired breezes whisper
days are burning hot
nights frigid numbing cold
what was before now lies dormant
hiding in deep recesses of rock
adapting becoming resilient
waiting for birthing moisture
and while life suspended abides
the red planet continues its course
until man’s machines disturbed the slumber
awakening the enigmas of Mars

©2012, Donald Harbour

The universe through a window pane

Lying on my back
I am looking up through a skylight,
its cracked panes trace paths
between the stars and planets.
The music of the night
twinkling notes on the tapestry
of infinity, creations fabric.
Filled with its glorious melody
the voyage beyond this place
is a rhapsody of movement,
a joyous trip into the unknown,
an anticipation of being,
of becoming part of the night sky,
coursing at the speed of light
that realm where gods and comets,
tug at the blanket of time.

Copyright: 2010, Donald Harbour