Courtesy of a night at the planetarium and Paschal’s word “Plangent”

how am I going to put
this all back together
I slap pieces on and they don’t stick
pick them up lick them up
stick them back doesn’t matter

yes it does it’s all matter

some bunch of gases went all
super nova and here we are
the star is blown all out
of proportion the tortion causing shearing
it’s appearing to be damaged
cells have clamored for assistance
but resistance is more than I can handle
lit a candle still the darkness
is a massive black hole
sucking all the light out
of the world is sky covered
cloud hovered galaxy smothered
in diamond starshot fabric bending
never lending an ear or a hand
I just stand and look up waiting
skating through the night
a ball of fright so tiny underneath
the heavens I would sing
the plangent tune of space time

subtle rhyme escapes

it winds around my throat
to silence questions with
no answers like the planets
in their orbit
through my veins corpuscles travel
routes unraveled slowly
predetermined til a single
singularity (not as much a rarity
as you might think)

takes everything to the brink
and then collapses into itself
like me I’m sinking under weight
of my own thoughts
I fought too hard I think

or not enough

this skin like space is bending
folding holding in the soul

but there are limits

I am in it but not staying
like the stars I am imploding
light exploding soon outshining
stellar pining for return to
source of course we argue
what that is but in the end we all
go back and fall into the core

becoming matter once again

the star stuff fading with the dawn
but what a journey to become
a softened color coated morning
where another will be looking to the sky
and wonder where am I and
do I fit here what’s my bit here

are my cells a part of yours

and did I come from up above
will I return and burn as brightly
daily nightly ever slightly
changing to become
the sun