Making My Own Gravity

Letting go, empty air and wind rushing past my ears

No redundant metaphors of wings to uplift me

This moment is clarity, honed by the rough edges of solitude

I awaken, even as I gently persuade myself to sleep

Stars burn hotter than my poetry

Their eyes peer at me from behind the veil of of clouds

I nod to them with knowing

I too once combusted, was set aflame with the Fire of existence

I know the glory, and the anguish of passion

Yet here in my seat, the conclusion of that inferno

This mortal body carrying the dust of my genesis

I realize that I am what the stars themselves become

When they die so gloriously and spread their elemental seeds

To build this vessel who looks up at them with wonder

Feeling small… And powerful

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