Earth spun dead in space

Earth spun dead in Space,
No longer a luminous silver-blue bead,
Puddle wet and glistening in the vault of Heaven;
It appeared instead, like a dead tiger’s eye,
Dull white, frigid, parched, cracked, baleful…
Oh, the gut-wrenching sight of it,
A paradise lost:
Is there perhaps a memory somewhere?
A glinting, vibrant template of its essence,
Waiting to unfold again within the Consciousness of Light?

Our Eyes trace the starry connections in the Heavens,
And declare them to be true, absolutely true.
But those same eyes never to see the disconnection that exists on Earth,
Although they stare at it everyday:

Beyond Earth’s Arc, the Heavens lie eternally immense, and infinite and
Unapproachable. A clear night’s sky.
So remote, blue-black fabric shot through with distant stars,
Blinking, winking, and beckoning in the shrouded blackness.
Are they yet alive in long-past death?
Or are they perhaps awaiting a birth in an unborn eon?
How distant are we from Heaven? Is it so very, very far?


from Cataclysm’s Day, First Book of the Gatherers Trilogy.

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