In the stillest moments—when God introduces
The breath and the stars—
All is true; all is isolation
and universal.
What is visceral and bone
Moves us to understand our plasticity
Our existence through these limbs, and flesh, and tears.
We are temporal beings, set alight in the creation
Exhaling our cells to the heavens.
The interim of existence is completed
By vocalizations or thoughts or pressures within
Yet—we transcend.
And the depth of a soul is flung
To the wide, wide ocean of unknowing.
Even then, we wrap into the other,
Silently studying the ceiling, the hair upon my arm,
The wrinkle of your brow.
In this smallest sliver of being
We have seen the plains and seas of the world
And that starry, starry night.
We have convalesced;
There is no other answer for us.
Bound as we are by these bodies
We are celestial beings awaiting our lift
Into the Atmosphere.
I am sheltered within
The crook and being and net
Of your flesh—let me go only
When the skies have called us forth
To swirl endlessly under the roof of stars.
Now, you--
my starry night.
