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299 792 458 m / s,
The speed of light
To move this
Ship From the
Of a Galaxy.

They say it is possible
To travel  
It in
100,000 years;
However, it would take
Trillions of years
To complete the task
To get there,
Through the
Central Plane-
Come on,
Then let us go.          

What would it look like...
From the inside,
To the other side,
Space and Time…?

Chills run up
Your spine.

To go any further
Would be impossible.

This trip is
Off the grid
Out of reach,
Reach a breakthrough,

Will we ever see it?
Most likely, never.

Darkness has the same
Speed as light,
And this leads me to
Think that
They are fighting
All the time.


Breaking a barrier-
Only to be
Meshed together.
Do you ever
Fight an uphill
Battle, so steep
Keep moving
Your feet, it’s
One where you
Keep fighting
Until you have
No more strength
You give up
In that moment
So, you move on
Learn to choose
Your battles
Live to fight
Another day
Keep fighting
For good
Only that
For good
The Rainbow withers
Against the fractals of Light
Blazing from the shadows in your eyes.
Eye-ris? ;-)
I weave words within
an ephemeral
tapestry. a seamstress,
or a scribe of sorts.
either way you hear it;
the song remains
the same.

I understand and I do
not: a simultaneous
quantum superposition
(or superstition) for
an unutterable blazon of
infinity, encapsulated
within a granule of sand amidst
the eye of a great tempest.

I cannot claim a prophet.
no. I do not merit
such bravado.
no testament to my
works and days,
nor presumptuous air
of religiosity.

my fingers sketch out a
tempo through the
of letters,
a form which
sings and dances
for those who cannot.

tuesday, january 8th, 2019

© kalica calliope
there are days i long for
the allure of philosophy.
a less personal affair,
but only to a degree.

rather than what i do.

such responsibility, to hold
another's fragile mental
stability within the palm
of my hand!

i am no healer, i do not
offer cures. no. the
gravitation i hold
is simply an


of everything
which shall always
be nothing more than
the reverberation of my soul.

i am not a poet.
my mother tongue is not
within clever word
play or meter.

i speak the words of the
cosmic tapestry
within the singing
of the spheres.

there is a quiet history in
that celestial symphony,
an Edda of instrumental
humming all that
was and shall be.
saturday, january 5th, 2019.

© kalica calliope.
If my verses give another reason to smile, trust, and believe in the vast universe and that we’re not alone than I will rest better knowing I did well to scribe with purpose.

If my poetry makes another laugh, or sigh, or even stop and move in their truth as divine being of light and love than, I have succeeded to aid one heart at a time.

If my phases excite and give another, room to recall
their greatness and not stay too long in shadows of the dark,
than my title as writer will stay intact.

If my poems empower others to know who they are
to celebrated and face their fears gallantly with dreams and hope than, I will walk feeling my heart open and wings spread.

If my work infused with love penetrates and cradles with words to give insight and encouragement than, I have for-filled my contract as light worker to reset the world for peace.

StarBG © 2017
my inner goals as writer is now expressed. Blessings all.
You told me that you loved me
not with words but with two eyes
and a dazzling smile
It was never in the things you said
but in the way you made me feel
like I was the only star
illuminating your infinite night sky.
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