THE JOY OF AN UNSEEN TOMORROW

 

even when all our chairs are filled, we are alone

each pair of eyes contains the flickering 

of a billion dead and dying stars, dust, light

remaining constrained to this section of space

 

so sinking into sadness we tighten our grips

clutching our changing bodies like shifting sands

 

so whispering to the thought of infinity

each one of us an island of unseen things

looking up at a gold-splashed sky

straining to see a land-bridge away from our tide