The clouds hang like slippers in the sky,
as if this world was a shoe-shop for a giant,
and we were all tiny, inconsequential things.
Sometimes I think we are all tiny;
the space above us screams of emptiness,
innumerable stars light up our pale night skies,
so far away. I asked my brother
how close was our nearest star?
and he answered in Physics,
which I don’t really understand. It’s hard
to put a number on forever, a boundary
on the universe. I have been assured
that the universe is a finite thing. I don’t
know if I find that reassuring
after all. Time slips by, past trains and trees and houses,
past slippers hanging still, and fluffy in the sky,
and I wonder how far it goes. I wonder if it
cares, I wonder who cares, I wonder many finite
unanswerable things. I gaze at the sky
and slip quietly into the stream of time;
it flows through me, and I through it,
and together we will discover whether
eternity exists.
Photo courtesy of Casey Horner
[…] I have recently had a poem published online by The Hysteria Collective! You can check it out here. […]
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