The cram of stars in the navy-night
blue-light of summer solstice.

The majestic zodiac sprawled
across the ever-stretching sky.

Ancient definitions of myth
star-stories of pre-determined fate

mapped in the moment and place
of our birthing; such fantasies

such imaginings of stellar systems
and mankind’s significance.

Heavens and humours; rules and rights
from Gods to kings and subjects

All settled in an ordered Universe
until, curiosity, ingenuity and invention

observation and record, rigor and Science
with its license to question freedom.


© M.L.Emmett

November comes
with the wild geese
in their V like memories
of an arrow flying
too close to the sun
and their feathers shining
as their wings beat as one
drum in the distance
signaling that winter
is coming, and the cold
days will keep us inside
warmed by the fires we crave
deep in our caves painting
and dreaming away.

It's hard to know
where to go
from here
empty pages
            in my book
unwritten before me
and the vastness of ocean
washes over this desert
blurring the lines
between the
wounds inside
and perceptions
               of reality
I am stuck
in this foreign place,
a fine-chiseled limbo
etched upon
           my face
My past strong
behind me
pushing my limits
to the hilt
fingers brushing
new firmaments
                of grace
spilling silver
              from silt

I am ready
to see the future
burst forth and unfold
ready for my
raw elements
to be spun wildly into gold
these invisible wings
after years of
being wound in
            tight, rigid curl
are stretching out slowly
being coaxed to unfurl
And here I stand
my feet sturdy as roots
as the sands of time
bud tender shoots
my eyes locked to the stars
fixed in sanguine dream
no need to staunch
the flow
           of liquid
that freely streams
It pours out
from my eyes,
this river of salt
because growing pains
        sting --
it's nobody's fault
Yet it's
tearing me up
into coarse,
ragged strips
descending
upon me
with scratches and rips
and for every burn
branded into my flesh
new insights
are woven
from putrid
               to fresh
For every laceration
I bear upon this heart
there is a gleam in the garden
as seeds germinate
               their start

And as my soul opens out
      expands in deep
           vital glow
            I am as
             a child
who still needs to grow
Her moonlit eyes
set on
          unknown realms
her pillars fallen,
senses overwhelmed
vulnerably jaded,
yet unafraid
because stars  
sometimes
burst into
novas
creating
new
      light
             from
         shade