She was the first sin made of flesh
when no act of love was lewd or wicked
before men and gods
invented shame and virtue

hers were the fingers
that carved the heart of every star
and whose kiss set their fires ablaze
to burn eternally
in the vast emptiness of space
to give us something beautiful
to look up and pray to in the moments
we can find no beauty within ourselves

and beauty is within her name
and the colors of her eyes
and lust and desire burst from her womb
like a wild garden spilling over the universe
to give life hunger and reason

and she carved out a small piece of her soul
to give time a heartbeat
and set eternity into motion
and she is as old as she is young
for she lives outside
of the rules of deterioration and death

she is endless and kind
and you felt the warmth of her breath
in your lungs in your first gasp of air
and you will know her again briefly
as your take your last
and hear the sound
of her gently black wings carry you off
to the place where stars are born
and she carves you into a heart
to float in the sky
and comfort those
who need to find beauty
somewhere outside of themselves

The news said:
"It's entirely likely,
in fact, it's more likely,
that we are living in a simulation."

The circus and the chorus lines
are just for the architect's amusement.
When the leotards on the high wire
fall, he laughs the hardest.

Measuring the moon with his hands,
does anyone knows its' circumference?
"If someone can measure the moon,
we are better off."

Everyone forgets
the fallen artist,
and stares at the moon.
Some shout indiscriminately.

Three engineers
create a proof,
that creates an equation,
that is widely believed
for the next 100 years, before
proven later to be false.

The artist nurses his broken knee.
"Can't anyone see I'm suffering?"
Everyone stares at the moon.