up on high,
in mountain darkness
forest clearing,
where you climbed
through the barrier of the
evening's sky
and into the firmament of heaven
to gaze at
all of infinity.
it is here
you sat
years ago,
gazing out at the universe
and wanting it
to gaze back
at you.
i had not known
then
how little
of our cosmic home
could be seen
from up on high,
in mountain darkness
forest clearing.
but now
as a matter of duty
we had set a course
through the abyss,
and into the endless black
of ocean's night.
where time can
be measured
not by anything
of the earth,
but only
by the changes
in the heavens
and
the repeating journeys
of earth's fellow Wanderers.
it is here
in the abyssal places,
far from any horizon
where
infinity
truly lives.
where you stand
in quiet awe,
as the ocean's water
laps against your hull,
and you
gaze
out into the universe
and see the darkness
pushed away
by an uncountable billion
points of light,
and the brilliance
of the Milky Way
parting the sky in two
and igniting
all of existence
with it's warm
and gentle
glow.
it is here,
out in the abyss
where infinity truly lives,
and
where you can finally
know
that the heavens
are
indeed
gazing back
at us.
YOU ARE READING
Melancholia
Poetrypoetry takes us to so many places, and we take poetry to so many places. here are poems about places, and sometimes the people found in them.
