The world in all its glory
still vacant
The abyss below
echoes back words I’d like to decipher
[will it ever be enough]
Some days the echoes
are all that matter
and even though he’s my world
these echoes are sticky
like a magnetic night sky
without a cloud for miles
Where the comets and planets come alive
and beat
to some universal pulse
strangely connected to the abyss.
But then I’m hungry
and lonely
and I gotta take a piss
so I leave the stars and the comets
letting them die once again.
But when I return the clouds have doubled
tripled
fuck there’s nothing left
the clouds have swallowed my vision
whole
-Saschia Johnson
something about the breeze…
watchful of a comets descent,
inhaling through the eyes,
digesting in the mind
a peculiar empathy of knowing
crystalizes in the heart,
i too have long heard the
gravitous orchestra it follows
in spiraling cadence,
of starbright tears, given to the sky
jaw clenched with quiet defiance
gifting awe
to strangers eyes, a parade of lights
in a whisper
vanishes in majesty…
wondrous to fade so spectacular
something about the wind,
loud so loud,
familiar
crooked grin on a moon,
time traveler alas,
a statue standing in a remembered
sorrow, thoughts
familiar
clouds choke the same,
as decades ago,
just…one difference, in a gratitude
to follow a light parade,
to taste a wind too loud,
familiar gloom, welcomed
to have kept the eyes, heart and mind,
through the decades…unfrozen,
something about the breeze,
familiar to a comets descent.
-Lord Byronic featured art also by lordbyronic
Jayne.press 