As I looked out of my
bedroom window,
two sparkles of light
equal in brightness hover
in the distance.

One, bursting forth
from a slab of rock holding
visions of a woman, a fridge,
the opening and closing of doors,
a drunkard, a mute, a broken jar
the booming screams of a child,
the thunderous fall of a chair.

In the second, farther still,
an ocean of bright plasma.
Swirling with great force
between white birth
and red death. Flickering
with great intention then
thinning out into
nothingness.