Friends: I know it’s been a while. And things have been difficult on the writing front, the health front, and so many different fronts in my life. It feels like I’m at a point where all of the creative energy is drying up, and just keeping afloat is taking everything I have. But every once in a while, a poem breaks through. And on rare occasions, it’s a good one. — Zx
The stars are slipping far from human hands.
Though they may last a night, a million years,
the cosmic wind is blowing them, as sand,
away and yet away. So shed your tears:
entrust them now unto the astral glow,
that they may underwrite the memory
of these uncertain years. The stars will know
of you and I, the many things we see,
when we are gone. The universe recalls
the things that live and die, bleed into dark;
though we might fade away, we never fall
into oblivion. We leave a mark.
Though physicists might sing unyielding night,
dance with me now in sparse and holy light.
On Night's Horizon