i sit backstage in bluelight behind
heavy drapes, near invisible in dark
clothes tucked into shadow’s embrace
but my mind wanders free and easy
across the infinite universe
contemplating the melt of glaciers
humanity’s self-created tragedies
the arc of the comet
the lure of the black hole
the clarity in the void between
objects which is not a void at all
say some,
while others imagine dieties who
dance on the heads of ideas
whispering amourous philosophies
into the meaning-laden night
only to fall back exhausted into history’s
fiery hand, to be tossed gently aside
in order to make room for ghosts.