4, 3×8, Waterfall

A myth can happen anywhere,
Yes, even here where the black wier
constant as evaporation

As constant as the bird-song thrall
Never lets up, always pouring
Dark and when the wier is eaten

Still its constancy will shatter,
When all and the wier go up, splat
In the suns final inferno

Thunder out into space and pour
in a wall of material –
Stars won’t know what to make of it.

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Published by

commucrat

Send your life out in multiple directions like a galaxy shedding stars. Always come back to hope and try to thrive. All posts, (poems, stories, essays, etc.) here are composed by my hand, unless noted otherwise. Please ask if you'd like to use one.

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