Bright light, explosive energy, flying heat across night sky, meteor on a race to nowhere, way up high. Millions of miles from the earth, powerful atoms at your birth. Spinning and rolling through the galaxy, streak of light in celestial flight.
Mighty energy with no destination travelling through our constellation, reaching for the dark matter of deep contemplation. Waiting for the crash into a planet triggering catastrophe on fragile life. Broken fragment, burning out and adding to the debris in the vastness of space. No pace, just floating junk in space, along with waste from the space race. Burning orb, your energy absorbed, spectacle of fire, look up and admire.
Funeral pyre, life denier, crater creator, predator of the sky, no real purpose as you prowl the night sky, looking for somewhere to lie, some where you can extinguish and die, to rest for millions of years in a place in the sky, final resting place away from prying eyes. the rest of your days spent in an ash haze until you are discovered and once again amaze.
©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017
Rhythm of the Ink 