There once was
a moth that
had wings
of crystal
and when
he tried to fly,
he always dropped to the ground
and shattered into a million pieces.

Sometimes, I feel like that moth.

But I look into your
eyes and see
the
magic
that rests there
and I remember that
moths are beautiful, and
even when broken, crystals
are beautiful, too.

As sands flow through
The glass this hour
My will
Stays free
And filled with power

Now is
the time
To act and choose
To plant and sow
No sand -
to lose

Creation comes
As no surprise
For all my
Thoughts
Get crystallized

Green beautiful glimmers
The whole way down smooth crackle foundation
Love on the rising vibrating me outwards
The universe takes a hold and sings the song of creation
Caressing me in a beautiful love song
Crystals energized with forest green,luminescent yellow fading into a stream of mirrors, reflecting
Bring me life and strength
Trusting the love, my protector, my ancestor
Tinted blue smooth skin cold to the touch
Silver long striking hair branding infinity into my memory, my film that is me.
The infinite being that was created to see
All the love and light that has guided
My path into security,
Screaming “love” down the tunnel and hearing my heartbeat pulsing against the beautiful sunset of a curious night.

There she stood
Tall and assured
Charming but not boastful --

An energizing silence
A magnetic pull, all-knowing
Drawing me closer --

A scar I notice
A defect somewhat
An impurity they say --

She cares not to hide it
She basks in it
Pride in memory --

I come to hold her in esteem
Sets her apart
A quiet confidence --

A connection inimitable
I fondly remember
And she revels in remembrance --

frosty crystals clung to
light shows on windowsills
they ran faster than their hands
could touch
on the run from racing time
streams of comfort left
rainy roads bare
to them,
nothing on earth compared

When a flower begins to grow,
do you hear it cry?
Does it fret about the water supply,
or the illogical odds of snow?
In spring does it wish for the summer,
or that rather it grew by the lake?
No- it blooms without worry, with grace,
and this is Man’s biggest mistake.

Alien Nation
by Michael R. Burch

for J. S. S., a "Christian" poet

On a lonely outpost on Mars
the astronaut practices “speech”
as alien to primates below
as mute stars winking high, out of reach.

And his words fall as bright and as chill
as ice crystals on Kilimanjaro —
far colder than Jesus’s words
over the “fortunate” sparrow.

And I understand how gentle Emily
felt, when all comfort had flown,
gazing into those inhuman eyes,
feeling zero at the bone.

Oh, how can I grok his arctic thought?
For if he is human, I am not.

Note: The coinage “grok” appears in Robert Heinlein’s classic sci-fi novel "Stranger in a Strange Land." The novel’s protagonist, Valentine Michael Smith, was raised on Mars by enlightened Martians, and he often feels out of sorts on Earth, where he struggles to grok (understand deeply and profoundly) earthlings and their primitive, often inhuman, ways. Keywords/Tags: Mars, astronaut, alien, primates, stars, words, ice, crystals, Jesus, sparrow, Emily, Dickinson, zero, bone, arctic, thought, human, inhuman