Point

Close like skin, auroras fill the night sky.
Crushed to a point. Glowing explosion waits for me.
Blame is rain, scars in my mind’s eye.
Promises lie dormant under permafrost.

Dust blows on a flattened plane of black.
Stars are sand, a realm of quiet aching need.
Only a fool flies the same arc twice.
Optimist; scattered yet it fights on.

Only closer now.

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~ by nilscript on August 17, 2010.