A Human Journey
—
A million stars peer down on me
over the edge of the void
assembled like chattering starlings
on a telephone wire;
the pins that hold the sky up,
a pattern not yet cut,
fingers holding back the material
black and cold and old
veering over the edge, vertigo,
on the brink of the void.
Something may happen here –
vision may expand, shapes coalesce into new sense
a fleeting passing beat may be missed
for a moment we may soar higher than the stars looking
down upon the crawling ages –
then again, maybe aeons will pass
as they have before and over repeat.
In our most carefully wrapped dreams we
all realise that if the stars
were joined together from the vantage
point of Earth with
a black marker pen
they would spell
“patience”.
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