Thursday, August 07, 2008

Shooting star

Last night you fell from my firmament.
Krank und kaputt, you took a tumble.
I tried for silent months to hold you.
I stuck you up with force of will.
When that packed in I tried sellotape.
Superglue failed and so did all
The spiritual trappings and inner growth.
Pardon, forgiveness, understanding,
Yoga, rebirthing, meditation,
All failed utterly as cosmic glue.
You fell my dear, you fell directly
Through the handle of Orsa Maggiore
Resting on the horizon. That too failed
To hold your inconsistency.
Lubrified by your oiliness
You greased your way down through your own
Personal flipper and entered the zone
Marked “loser”. Just one momentary scoot
Of surprising yellow (sulphur my dear?)
Marked your definitive passing for good.
Your light has gone out, you’ve pressed disconnect,
You’ve taken the ultimate nosedive and I
Have no way of knowing if your brief performance,
Your spectacular, short and distinctly downward
Journey proceeds or if you’ll just
Disintegrate for lack of substance.
You taste so good, but melt in the mouth.
No nutritional value ever hit my cells.
Could it be you were never a star?
A meteor maybe? Spatial dust?
Little or nothing. Wasn't it just.

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