The Stars Above Like Dust
The stars above like dust arrayed,
their glow resplendent in the theme of night—
as remote to me the heavens, the drone now of my
footstep’s unremarkable cadence compels me onward.
I urge my stream of thought again to reconsider bygone years—
and review in sorrow moments of regret I wish could simply evanesce.
A passing graveyard's dated markers make the past more vivid, and
as always there appears my own among them, adorned with gilt and guilt.
This sector of the cemetery seems untouched,
and painful stillness reigns until preoccupying words
if only somehow vanish from my mind, and absent these,
I leap joyfully to take my place at last unburdened midst the stars.
Dedicated to my dear and treasured poet friend Connie Marcum Wong, not so much due to content, as to its measured flow, which comes and goes in my work and over which I seem to have no control. Bless your days and nights, Connie.
Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2017