PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

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Old wings take a year, at least,

to molt. Verses, born on distant stars

made of fire and molten time, spit

out radiation and come comet-tail like

to create uluating Northern illumination.

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Tides are little ripples in the fabric

of all things known and when they touch

other tides they strum. Every-way change; 

forces in alterations against waves 

of resistance from uncounted

immeasurabe distances.

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What is a year in terms of forever? How

small a distance is a decade compared

to eternity? Time was made on earth to

count the rotations of orbs against

boundless voids.

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But for that and all, a year is long

enough to jot down a lyric or rhyme

based on non-terrestrial spaces

where ice-ringed moons or wandering

comets roam in a time frame

against a time line of their own

manufacture.

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Lady A

08-19-13

7:07p 

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