Bite More / Taste Less -------> (Ramblings)

Ramblings of a alleged realist, supposed poet, and apparently ambitious something-or-other.

The Vigil

The dead aren’t that exactly

 they’d say the same of us

if we would listen but they know we

won’t so, they poke holes in the sky.

They poke holes in the sky and

set big burning candles there on

the shoulder of the warrior

and the tip of bow and

the horn of the bull

and on the scales.


It’s a vigil, really,

but they don’t stay long

they have all the time

in our life to pity us

but, they’d rather play Frisbee with galaxies

or go sky diving in black holes or

supernova surfing.


After all, they know we’ll

be there soon enough and

they’ll say I told you so and

we’ll say you never told us and

they’ll say we poked holes in the sky.