This falling star glows like us all, briefly.
This soaring star teases us with wishes.
This hurtling star teaches we end meekly
in some dark void. So we flare, suspicious
of ourselves. Angry as fallen angels,
we streak, we scream, we break soul’s barriers,
plotting to tempt and condemn all to hell,
igniting eternal space—carriers
of despair in our exploding descent.
Blind to vast cascading hues around us
swirling in rainbows of flame, bright crescent
our sly foe conspiring to surround us
with hope, we fly and flee it, our fire eyes
revealing our true essence: We despise.
Roger Armbrust
July 20, 2011
