out of that too blue sky.

The end of a meteoric rise.

Trailing down,

spiraling out.

Whatever sustains life

becomes the meaning of it.


I’ve found myself surviving,

caught in the ebb and flow

of constancy and routine;

my favorite antidote

to all this chaos

and insanity.


I sure have been up there,

way up in the clear blue sky.

Viewing the curve of the Earth,

then watched the blue fade to black.

In the cold, dead outside,

I realized there is no time,

only what we synthesize,

so I came back home.


Survived that on my own.

Nothing matters more

and I’m not sure

I have it in me

for another re-entry.


HG – 2018

Leave a Reply