PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Once a graduate from souls,
you rise against the folly of the tether;
into black space sat in patient nowhere,
long forgotten to any.
And you stray there in doting,
orbiting rocks, spun;
forgetting how to breathe air.
You'll half-expect still
some celestial what's-it,
quasi-incarnate as a positive being,
sent to do great and positive things.
But you find no claim,
and continue forward towards nothing
with only time to consume.
When you collide with something,
you entangle in short form
and build whatever may be built
amidst all of the noise.
You then continue floating.