Untitled

My lovers are my children:
One by one they are born out of stardust,
Ignite and burn fiercely for a time,
Then cool and dim,
Lose mass and cohesion, drift out of orbit
And away from my gravitational center.
Through my telescope I may glimpse them wandering--
There, in the far-off, unlit regions,
They occult more distant nebulae,
As shadows mask shadows and darksky nights
Obliterate shadings' subtleties.
Their trajectories are their own, and I have no business
Bemoaning their wayward propensities,
For the heavens are rich with the woeful clashes
Of bodies that do not separate
But spiral inwardly until
They meet their emotional deaths.

Reviews

[Diverse TV]

The fire never dies so long as truth stays lit within and expressed freely without. Very nice writing, thank you for sharing.