Last Days of The Sun

I close my eyes

and try

to picture you.

All I see

is the purest blue.

I guess light

is a particle, too.

All along its wavelength,

I feel my way;

color blind,

or desensitized.


I’ve been waiting

my whole life

to see you.

All of these are invitations;

every word

a summoning.

I’ve never caught a glimpse,

or an impression

of the shape of your face,

just the purest blue,

stretching out infinitely.


How much can I give?


oh, so much more.

Do I dare to try

to burn out like this?

One last coronal mass ejection.

A final convulsion,

where I expel my spirit.

Will I meet you then?

Is that the price

I have to pay

the ferryman?


My eyes closed,


but still with the expectation

of impact in any instant.

The calm blue

is long gone, now,

replaced by ash grey.

A crematorium hue.

The light still comes in,

maybe just

a little less energetic,

but I’m still conjuring you up

in my mind.


Believe you,

love you,

hate you;

I’ve done everything,

but confront you

across the day-to-day.

I never made it

past the vision.


 HG – 2018

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