Wednesday, October 24, 2012


The cosmos is icy,
Empty in more places
Than intense where it is

Burning, brilliantly hot.
What is is mostly cold,

Dark, vacuous, senseless,
Occasionally fierce,
And only what isn't

Seems bearably bright,
Comfortably warm,
Cyclic, reassuring.

The stars shine out to us
To try to explain this
Before we freeze our tears,

And for this we thank them,
Tat cautionary tales
Fit to constellations,

And kneel by our bedsides
In the dark of our nights
To pray, our souls to take.

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