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november child

the curse of a sentimental heart & a skeptical mind

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universe

Last Hold

The night sky’s amazing
protocol of the past
beckons with a surge
of flickering lights from
uncountable distant suns,
that might just be ghostly
messages of the vanished.

And, as always,
my eccentric mind
is doing somersaults,
dwelling on my own
sort of fancy philosophy.

What if we are the Last Hold,
our galaxy the last light
in a dark, and empty Universe.
Drifting, all alone,
but still drifting,
defying the laws of physics
through pure human stubbornness,
unaware until the last light
has winked out?

 

© Novemberchild
photo credit: H. Heyer via wiki commons

Sometimes

Sometimes you forget
your pretence of being human.
I hear the hum of
the Universe interlaced
with your voice,
and I can almost touch
golden rivers running
underneath your skin.

Sometimes your human body
is unable to fully contain you.
I see the most pleasing
white moonlight
leaking from your eyes,
and catch the scent of
cold starlight during
winter solstice.

And sometimes
I shed silken tears,
and submit to my fear
that this world is not enough
to hold you.

© november child
photo credit: Francisco Sánchez-Aedo Gálvez via Flickr

Pleased

Quiet

It’s quiet, too quiet.
Freed from the shackles
of preoccupation
with everyday activities,
thoughts raise storms.

Fractured abstract syntax
interrupted by obscure symbols,
too speculative
for immediate grasp,
yet eerily familiar.

This feeling
of just needing to retrieve
that one missing piece of the puzzle
to understand the mechanics
of the Universe.

 

 

 

© november child
photo credit: wallpapersafari.com
Abstract

絵馬 Ema

Small wooden plaques
breathe prayers
into unconcerned winds.

Heartfelt wishes
bleed hope
into indifferent rain.

Expectations
surrender
to an uncaring universe.

 

© november child
photo credit: Stefan Lins via flickr
Expectation

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