Friday, March 11, 2016

Falling stars

The burning friction of a falling star heats the air to lightning traces.
Memories in this moment are wishes for futures to come now, come here,
But the future is there, then. So you as still as palm trees in ocean's breeze
refuse looking away from your future behind the dying star, the wish
for a soft landing rather than the earth shattered below.
What if, though, it's really a Star who falls, and hits the earth?
Who survives?
Better then to wish on something more than stars dying their last, wish on
your hands set to work, shaping and forming, building and making
love or bridges or books or houses,
Let us wish in our hands, our hands we know
whose rubbing friction keeps us warm with
Memories more powerful than wishes: palm in palm,
eternal stars watching us yearn.

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