The children of stars
a poem
The children of stars roam this earth
Sink into her crevices
And peel off her skin
Cut squares into her face
To them, she is one large chessboard — and what more?
They scratch roads through her pores
And drink from her veins
She breathes and breathes and breathes
And whispers to them life
For she too is
A child of dead stars
She and they are but one and the same
Once upon a time
Born from stone and destruction
In the same exhalation
They take and take and take
And she watches
And for a moment, becomes enraged
Must this be her duty,
Forever babysitter
Of these foolish ingrates?
A mere fever can rid her of this disease
Their deaths a mere blink in existence
Never in her ages can she recall
Any specific name
Their lives flicker and snuff out
Without warning
More fleeting than the dawn
Their corpses more useful to her inanimate…
But she is placated by the reminder
That they are merely children
And their roots are entwined
Dense as the forces that created them
So she simply withstands it
Although still holding a silent hope
That she may enjoy a moment of peace
Sometime later, sometime after
When the children of stars return to dust
And she too disappears
Among the myriad of constellations
