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.
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?
Some nights, when I close my eyes,
Standing beneath the stars of forever,
I am taken up to fly to distant places,
Soaring through and between the planets.
Let it not be said that we are rooted,
Creatures held upon the soil of earth,
We are but the remnants of what was,
The cause of what is to be, someday.
There, point your finger toward the night,
Reach out your hand and grasp the heavens,
Inhale the scent of destiny’s purpose,
Understand that you are the mere shadow,
That fleshy shadow that has only tasted
The minutest particle of the infinite feast,
Unable to dine at the table of creation,
Until you come to believe its possibilities.
on grandmother’s hand sewn quilt
we lay on our backs naked
staring up at the night sky
you and I strolling along the fence posts
of our minds buried deep in
the rich fertile soil of our past
I wondered if we fell into the sky
would travelers between the stars
pick us up and take us aboard
would we be accepted as we were or
examined as some pinkish specimen
fit for their galactic zoo you just
giggled asking if I thought we could
take grandmother’s hand sewn quilt
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.