Spiral. Silence. 

We fall gently

into the Stars.


radio waves

die against us.

We spin. Timeless.

Sharing sublime

touches; sighing.

Spiral. Silence.

The shoals of Suns

wash against us,

the salt and sand

are Cosmic Dust.

Eternal spin,

into the Stars,

Blackest Reaches,

we’ve reached afar.


Two, but alone.

Radio waves,

they call us home.

© CGT, 2017.

Blogging Poetry

Obol View All →

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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