the heavenly spheres
are sad tonight.
a lonely stella;
her flickering light.
explosions of
the fallen star, in
disgrace, as evil as
the streak of dust she
left behind.
the high and low
mourning of the
comets that wished
they'd done something
sooner; of the humans
peeping through their
telescopes, wondering if
they'll be next.
the music of the meteorites
as they whizzed past the
funeral of someone who
used to be one of their own.
the sadness that seeps in
their core, emerges as the
stench of their guilt in their
children, the novae, the
nebula. it is something that
can be smelled billions of miles
away, by high school students
trying to figure out the yarn of
the universe and losing themselves
in the process.
so, memento mori, memento mori.
this is a requiem, not for the dead star
that left,
but for the ones that stayed.
....
oh well. space poetry.
af.
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
PoetryHIRAETH- (n.) A homesickness for a place you can never return to, a place which never was. Previously: Songs Of My Lonely Soul. *** A Song Of My Lonely Soul. A Ballad Of My Heart Whole. A Story That Was Never Said. When We Find It To Be Dead. ...
