The bright stars, appearing eternal
across the night skies of our
brief, shooting star lives,
seem to whisper, without malice,
how soon there will be just
them, and the landscape,
and our absence unfelt.
Yet even the stars die, and
planets burn to a cinder, in
their own torment of mortality.
For we are all transient
in this mortal Cosmos.
15.-19.12.2022
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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