Published April 6, 2007
We drop our prayers into the mirrored blue and
watch them ripple out in arcs across the stars,
because here we are never more than inches below gravity,
rattling the constellations like loose change in our pockets.
While underneath the curvature of sky, old Abraham still counts
the stars, numbering his sons and daughters off into the eras.
Rest assured the limits of the world will soon be met, so we ration
our remaining breaths because soon they will be spent on heavy
worded phrases and snatched away by greedier lungs, for in this
veil of woven ink we cling between the breath we gave and the
one we have yet to take.
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Canary word: Present
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141,497 Literary Works • 674,536 Reviews
i have to second crysi in the lack of helpful critique and the wow-ness of this.
beautiful poem. profound message.
keep on writing. please. =)
Wow.
Just... wow. I cannot tell you how much I love this poem! I really like how you stick with two-line stanzas until the end, and the last line begins (every so fittingly) with "one."
Brilliant.
Your imagery is gorgeous, and your words fit the tone beautifully.
I suppose this isn't the most helpful critique, but... I just keep reading it over and over, and I still have yet to find a part I don't like.
You.... You. Keep writing. That is an order.