sun risen to refraction
heaven obscured by lightthe stars unseen in darkness
emptiness more hollow than sorrow,
vacuum beyond regret or loss,
absence completed
in airless space
between the moments
we hide in as we pass
we strive to fathom
what is beyond us
time shudders
its irregular gravity
bending us as it must
to the mass we are made of
and the mass on which we stand
all other ground is sand
sky explains it
if we could interpret
its light and the spectrum
through which our eyes believe
and hope that what we see is not
the illusion of night departing
with all its stars fleeing
from the beginning
© BH, 2022
I had a phrase in mind to start all this but found I'd used it thirty-eight years ago. Well! I toyed with it; made it different; rearranged it. In the end, I let it go. All I was left with was the metaphysics of a morning and our place, as always, beneath the stars.
It always comes down to that: tiny us, infinity, and beyond. Come home, Buzz, all is forgiven!
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