Night leaned in and laid out
His stars bright and infinite
and Mars looked back over Its rolled shoulders
and did not blink
the Old Hunter is now going to bed
and I see Him turning to His rest
I wonder, how He sleeps...
in the near-distance the mountains of men
pale, un-moving in the moonlight
they stand tall and rigid
mute unthinking
monuments..
though thought went into them once
their many-closed-eyes curtained
and inscrutable
so many-celled hives
for living beings
not awake
and always asleep,
unlike me
I want to feel what its like to be Stars
to be brilliant though finite in Their infinity
..T
to make a pattern in Their sky
so that beings beneath and beyond
may see and lay claim enough
to make one singular wish
I see in Them
intelligence
which knows no bounds
Their silent witnessing back
lingers down into my depths
into the bowl that is the hollowness of
this Dying Planet and Humanity
how we could have better loved
and lived our honorable stewardship
of ALL that makes up Life
and that, for me,tonight,
is
and could have been,
all the difference.
Legal Copyright For This Poetry written directly to the page
2:17AM PST June 26,2020 time and date stamped...to ensure copyright.
And also for this legally copyrighted poet Melissa A. Howells
and for her legally REGISTERED and copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-A-World
written during one of my many wakeful moments in the NIGHT.
