Inside Space

Beloved mine,
I have watched stars cross
the evening sky,
laid beneath a hollow moon
and known for what the owls
and night spirits have called.
In the evening’s calm,
in the stillness that descends
after the day-heat-madness,
while the songs of wing and paw
lift up a gentle hymn and chorus,
wherein I find my own center,
a place of quiet love.
If I were able,
I would burrow out
the meat of that place,
and let us devour
all the goodness within,
so that we may make
a chamber of joy,
and therein
reside us both.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Go ahead -- say something. Anything.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.