Smear the points into all their colors, striations, streaks, and nebulae.
There you have it. Stars. Swirling endlessly, timelessly above.
In the broken branch one might see the rot, but the roots;
the roots dig in, stay firm. We won’t fall yet.
Silence is a pain only the lonely understand,
yet silence is bliss, which only the lonely crave.
If she was angry about the beginning, maybe
she’ll be angrier at the end, but we won’t know.
Not until it strikes. Would we withstand the wind?
Or fail at the roots, give up the ground, fall with a mighty
and resounding crash. But among stars, this tree in the forest
makes no sound. Not because there is no one to hear,
but because the heartbeat of a star, of a nebula,
lasts a million lifetimes. The light pulse of a super nova,
would not reach human eyes for millennia. Where would we be?
and in that grand scheme, what does it matter anyway?
Wow I got way behind this time didn’t I? Oops, oh well, I wrote a poem today and thought I’d share it. Inspired by scrolling Tumblr during a storm.