Ire

These letters descend as fallen stars

Cataclysmic showers ad infinitum

Leaving shimmers in their wake

Beguiling, mystifying, yet

Ephemeral in their trace

When silence comes, as silence does

Our stars' dust pervades all the same

With visions we forgot, or ignored

Still glimmering, now settled

Upon midnight's sifting shores

Their eternities are only waiting

Expecting a soul's graceless presence

That human made briefly divine

From our rough and uncouth

Core pining a god's essence

No more nor less, we listen

A scribe scratching for remembrance

Perhaps one evening or another

We may yet find ourselves once more

Gazing out upon the crystalline cracks

Our words left upon those shores

How easy it is, to dream

Beyond our hand's trembling dire

But to dig in searching screams

For meaning, another thing entirely

When impatience festers to ire

When all's left are those stars

We marked once before

Fading as memories often do

Before dawn's hungering fire