forever
you the moon
delicate waxing waning
at the drop of a mood
predictably uncertain
I the earth
solid grounded firm steadfast
always beneath to catch you
whenever you fell from space
who knew
frail flawed pocked-marked you
could eliminate obliterate plunge
me into an abyss with no bottom
who knew
at that moment we'd stop spinning
frozen in darkness you unmoving
me an unlit pall of my former self
Blot.
All around her, the world dimmed. The ubiquitous darkness seemed as though she were gazing into the vast pupil of the universe. Like a mite of dust, she floated and trembled before it.
She knew it couldn't be real.
How could it?
How could the world become so cold, so dark, in just an instant? Everything seemed to float around her, twirling weightlessly, so that every time she shifted and felt the ground beneath her, a strange vertigo reared up. She shivered at the way the wind hushed and stilled to look at the huge spot, the pupil, that peered out at the Earth. It was all so strange and lovely. When she blinked, the universe's fiery iris created a purple ring on her inner eyelid. Strange and lovely.
Once in a lifetime, this phenomenon occurs. Yet that didn't seem true. It was a lifetime, eternity stretched over a fistful of moments, moments running through her grip like water. An eternity was held in that great eye; an eternity in knowing that even forever must end. The flame haloed pupil gently reminded her that even the sun will change and disappear; long after she has escaped the gaze of the universe's pensive eye; long after the light of the sky is no longer obscured by this beautiful blot.
Spritely Creatures of the Night
Whisper light
They float in the
Darkness of each night
Whilst making
Gardens semi-bright.
Mischievous,
Mystical
Little sprites.
Exuding
Auras of delight
Their flights,
A tapestry spun
In the obscured night,
Amidst all else
They blossom,
Consuming at first sight.
Whispers echo
In the gust of wind,
Delicate blossoms
Open to receive
Cryptic showers,
Enlightenment is perceived
In each display of
Pixie dust they weave.
Visions of dimmed light
Obscured by the night
Some fair, some small,
Some large, some tall.
They flit, they fly
Amongst the special chosen few
Spreading strands of magic
To the world anew.
Alluring, divine
Creatures of the Fay,
If they perchance to
Fly your way,
Know they surely bring
An ease of days
Whilst showering
Fortunes utterly sublime.
