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an interstellar vacuum
is far from empty,
all the water in the universe
is melted comets,
and it floods all reason.

bloodstar from afar
or Cape Canaveral close,
no astral projection there,
only a cipher in a foreign quadrant
big, wet, unsympathetic drops.

hear it now!
the sonic boom of
marooned tourism,
in short shots,
fast cuts,
horizonal eddy currents
ripe with thorns,
like lakes of suspicion,
if God is listening
then this mission is in trouble.

downcycled planet in the wires
and cigarette lighters,
a home without space,
Andromeda chained in sacrifice
to sate the monster,
her punishing beauty
cascading over the peril
that everything in the universe
is recyclable – even you!
It seemed like a story
For Schrödinger
Time and distance ensured that
They were
All things and
At once
And, in this way, they stayed in perpetual orbit
She wondered if
In another life
     In another place
Their lives would have intersected
Instead of diverging
To haunt her with all that could have been

It was the bitterest irony
When at last their paths swerved together
That both hearts had already been spoken for
     The Fates were surely cackling
          As the air hung heavy
               With all the possibilities
                    That died on the vine
Because time was never on their side
How could one even cry for something they’d never had?
She found herself heaving uncontrolled sobs
Shaking with unfettered grief
In mourning
     For all the things
          She had wanted to live
All the bright dreams of their teenage years
That had seemed so perfect
Shattered by the bitterness of
Growing up
And that old ******* Father Time

If she were honest with herself
She’d admit it was not him
She actually loved all these years
But all the things he might have been
—or rather—
All the things she might have been with him
What a different life she might have had if
     One day
          She had followed her
               Wild teenage love
Instead of living in this cosmic joke
She’ll never know
But she’ll heave sobs
For all the parallel lives she is not living
And the orbit she will return to
Knowing she’ll never be satisfied
     She’ll always wonder
          Always be gazing off
               Trying to glimpse a galaxy
Where things turned out better
Teaches us to hope,
That every problem has a  solution.
I think the sun has grown jealous
Of my friendship with the moon
I prefer dusk to dawn
And midnight instead of noon
I really dont know
How i feel at all, but i
Want to feel loved please.
sunrise on the river
a million stars
fishing poles
and my brother
The heavy downpour
took longer,
easily, it spread all over,
the weight of water,
drenched the ground,
the doused
the body and
silenced the mind.

I stared
at the gloomy, grayed
horizon...while rain
poured without end.
the water level
rose...and swelled,
all active and dormant fears
lost their tethers
and darkened the floodwaters.

It seemed, the sky
really needed to cry.

and here we are, humans,
twisted...tangled up in the chaos
of a grieving universe.

With just thin raincoats
and light scarves as shields,
how do we escape the aftermath
of life's heavy downpours?

For lots of reasons, the sky
disencumbers...and cries.

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 31, 2022
...but, there is no escape,
.....just choices
........on how to cope...
How to become a poet:
Let someone rip your soul apart.
And in the need of mending ,
You will replace it with words.
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