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Good emotions are
fleeting, like the sun
trying to claw through
a particularly cloudy day,
desperate to peek through
the heavy, ash-colored cotton,
to once again catch glimpse of
the forbidden; the humanity, the life
far below. Oh-so different from
the grand expanse of space.
Its sheer desolation, brute
rending voids, and icy
cryptic matter. Ever
dark in the face
of nothing.

Home.

The silly little humans
spend their afternoon hiding
under their hand-made shelters,
shunning the blessed crystals falling
from the dreary woolen sky, turning
instead to their crackling hearths,
soulful exchanges, and resilient
camaraderie shared among
‘friends’ and ‘family’.

 
Such foreign words
to the roaring ball of fire,
who knows nothing other
than distance, darkness, and
despair. Of being held back by
unseen forces, ever out of its
control. Unable to embrace
that precious blue-green
orb until the clouds
finally part their
greedy hands

and let in
the light.