
Image Credit: Vadim Sadovski/Shutterstock.com
We are the stuff of dying stars
Sprinkled in a hostile and strange firmament
Seeking home
Or the debris of asteroids
Hurtling across time
Carbon molecules
Like miracles rising in the womb
Just one more time
An accident of cosmic birth perhaps we grow
On this little planet
Moving fast and slow
In a realm we can never come to know
But sparkling each our little souls
Just like the stars we watch at night
Our true parentage above
And taking flight
Just one more time
Did ancient gods sprinkle all this form
Across a canvas like an artist
Seeking inspiration in chaos till we were born?
Or were we but an afterthought
Which grabbed greedily this little life
To make it more, the pinnacle
Of everything, a fool that sings
Into the impersonal night
Just one more time?
(c ) Helen Valentina 2019
Were we an afterthought? Always wonder about that. Super poem, Helen.
Itβs a fascinating question. Thanks John! ππ
π