everyone knows when a comet streaks
across the sky, blazing a trail of fury
through space. we mark time by meteor
showers, shoving our notions of an era
on what is otherwise life as we never
knew it. let it be on that day we shall
look away from the stars and instead
wonder at all that dark. who are we
between burnings? tired and dried out
from another day finished, half-
famished for some nameless thing.
what about being lost right where you
are, wondering if you’ve become the empty
gravel lot where weeds grow and everyone
knows this too has turned the corner
of time and is now a space outside where
rules don’t apply and beauty binds
broken glass and lives past to show me
the secret hope of being ordinary.
V. H. King's Ink 