This Is The Shape Of How I Inhabit An Empty Sky

I am a sun-lit sailboat,
whose mast is buttressed by a concrete heart.

(Where will this journey end?)

I am a pair of iridescent insect wings,
fluttering above a flush of dewy leaves.

(How many more times will I feel the kiss of dawn?)

I am the steady rise and fall of the sea,
inexplicably bound to gravity’s clockwork respiration.

(How can I survive these grinding gears of existence?)

I am a spiraling galaxy,
cradled by the shadowy arms
of dark matter.

(How can I love without hesitation,
when my center is anchored by a singularity?)

I am a sonic boom of consciousness
barreling down the quantum tunnel
that merges space with time.

(For how long shall I remain?)

I am
a melting

whose irregular form
is merely a drunken silhouette

of the shape

of how I inhabit
an empty sky.


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