Dark sunrise,
Heart of a glimmering empyrean.

Cross my heart
and swear to Justice,
The Phantom knows †
just where you placed it:
The Buckfast chalice, consecrated
by our tonic vintage of the ever-inebriated.

Does night fall
or do we raise it

Forlorn, heroic blue
deliverance, powdered
white crystalline shivers.

These nightfallen moments capture my gaze
to stun me so thoroughly and leave me amazed.

I was once told the universe begs to be noticed
Stars are constantly being created and destroyed
Planets are bombarded with energy
Comets are traveling along their course
(Until some greater gravity, force, or God’s hand changes their track)
Yet the universe
Lives
Breathes
Pulses
Through the land you stand
On the water you float
And the very air you breathe
Varying elements, that comprise
The crumbling ruins of Athens
The cleansing sea mist on port city walls
The terminally ill bodies in which we are confined,
Litter all things like crown jewels
The universe shines from our fingertips
But nothing gold can stay
And eventually our lights fade into the distance:
Boats deserting the shore, never to be seen again
Only after they navigate past sheer cliffs
Bathed in the remnants of the painted nightfallen sky
Our lives do not ceaselessly beat on like the waves on a shore
No matter how much we wish it so
We return to the Earth from which we rose
While still retaining the cosmos inside of our beings
Stars will continue to be born and die
Desolate rocks with still absorb radiation
Meteors will move along their infinite ellipse
(Closely followed by a mile-long tail)
As long as we exist
The universe will—