PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The night sky

could almost kill me

with its weight of

of blindness and

flame—

so much time and 

space and 

erupting stillness

falling to a

world never ready

for real secrets,

each star an epoch

encased in 

crackling ice,

each an ancient death

too beautiful

to interpret—

one way to be immortal. 

I must have been born

a thousand times

in whirling moments

stranded in that

wild and hissing

multitude,

and still, some say

this is all 

there is . . . 

such captivity

to live in only

what can be seen. 

The ant on his planet

of mountains and monsters

believes this is the world.

Also the fish in his 

glassy dream.

Also the private cyclone

of the hummingbird—

in its frantic galaxy 

it has only

the color of sweetness

to live for.

Also humanity,

believing we are 

these bodies we 

explore in,

so convinced this

magnificent and 

terrifying cage around us

is all we can touch

and good enough. 

So where is this vastness,

not beyond,

but within,

and everything . . .

and so much more

than we ever imagined?

Just a turn of 

a thought,

a silk thread

of a prayer,

a dusting of something

once believed

and forgotten,

and here it is:

the door, the silence,

the Light, the bliss,

God's hand.

Walk through 

and greet

the universe you are.

Patricia Joan Jones