Scattered Souls...Ascending

the moon is the bleached bone heart

            of a lost goddess,

            exiled to a black vault

static -- gone -- but still giving away her light

 

            there is a patchwork quilt on the grass

-- a Frankenstein creation of mismatched panels --

and absolute silence, as I lie parallel to the sky

 

            I am the hinge -- sprung --

            between the above and the below

 

I feel the fever of falling stars, dropping

in wild arcs that look nothing like showers --

            I can’t help but wonder

            if something up there is dying

 

            fragments of celestial bodies, particles

            of civilizations hurdling themselves

                        toward extinction

            in ribbons of white light

 

maybe this is how the end will touch us all,

when those last shallow breaths of life

are a lock struck open -- the spirit escapes --

            we ascend, as morality evaporates,

            and then plunge headlong

into an unknown continuum

 

perhaps what we perceive as stars,

            are simply the scattered remains

of a lifetime of ascended souls

Reviews

[Tom]

The spirit's release on life's dying breath, to be seen as a shooting star by other far away civilizations just as we see their same fate on a clear night when we observe the night time sky!

A philosophical muse on life's hereafter and so imaginatively worded, another enjoyable creative poem !

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much for your review, Tom...I am humbled by your words!

[Tom]

The pleasure was all mine !

[Rocans]

I like the contemplative nature of this one. All stars blaze off into one last swashbuckling swansong before its end. I cringe to think that my own soul would bow out into nothingness like that. Quite a good write as usual interspersed with an interesting concept. Good one, I enjoyed this as astronomy has always been a love of mine.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Glad you enjoyed this one :)

[Jack...]

Star light burns of past lives and new hopes when evening passes us on the boulevard...dare we look up to see what may be us tomorrow? A glimmer of hope providing beautiful questions for those strolling not even concerned, leather shoe soles on uneven concrete...be careful, stumbling my cause you to fall up. Very magical my friend. A whisper of thoughts to create just that...thought.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much...I'm glad you liked this one, Jack :)