Stuff We're Made Of

In a planetarium near Mt. Aso, nightfall


What Are We

but a spectacular series of births and deaths,
a monument to psyche psyched-out,
the nightmare of the nothing from nowhere;
no one lived
to tell the story.


What We Are:

Fleeing fleas flying
Skies catching the light
Grimacing pangs
Cliff-hanging ends
Beginnings that promise
Journeys taken
Laps and leaps.


Magisterial might of light, you do not
go out. Celestial, incomprehensible,
with fate up in the air,

you

find your place in the sky.