I don’t tend to write poetry because I don’t write it well but this sprang forth and here it is.
Like everything else, I was stillborn.
Life fading like the last light of the day.
Fist unfurling as a flag with no fight.
I would enter darkness as a small bang.
And I am gone.
A memory to fade.
Stillborn and gone.
Flushed from the system like any other waste.
It’d be cruel if there was sense to it.
But this only is.
And cruelty is the point.
Receding into the darkness to curl and shrink.
Becoming the seed once more.
Grace into thought.
Act into idea.
Life into absence.
But we find that even in darkness there is light.
If we close our eyes tight there is the void.
Close them tighter and the void gives way to growing brightness.
Burning in us into and beyond death.
The spark formed as we first realize –
The spark that only grows with each successive thought.
Until it is an inferno that no darkness, inner or outer can quell.
We are our very brightest light, so bright that we cannot always see it.
Hiding within us.
Burning in our hearts.
Blazing in our minds.
We exist even into the void, into the quiet stillness of nothing.
We exist in the memories, the loves, the very deeds we have done.
We leave a stain on existence that lightens over time but is never gone.
But from that darkness we unfurl, nourished by our inner flame.
Flowering and forcing our way into a big bang.
The light growing from us, in us, and around us.
We explode from the nothing into the world that waits for us to breath the words –
For we are.
Still born even as we flounder, rising as we stumble, and igniting the world around us.
Still born and here and ready and waiting and acting.
Until our light joins the others to become stars above, and stars below and stars within.