Silencing glare from the moon

Staring deep into my cosmic mind

Shattering the crystal net

between me and the endless sea of darkness

Illuminated by bright lights

Metal skyships flying overhead

One can feel the night

bend with the astral sky

Bringing to earth

A light only the heavens can reach

With these bare hands

I take a chunk

for the next time I visit

i know there’s not much to a box of used crayons

when labor day gives them away,

but do you remember the oiled pigment

staining your fingernails, staining your shoes

when they ground beneath the carpet and the soles?

do you remember your smile, your squint, your childish

determination and pride? you scribbled the world at

dusk and i asked why we still watch sunsets if

we know how they end.

and did you hear the music threading through

lawn mowers and storms last night, did you dance with me?

i should’ve guessed that the stars preferred

the sun to the moon (like calls to like), but maybe

they needed a silent love. still, your heart

beats like cicadas’ wings and i thought it would

keep me awake forever (and i thought for once

that would be alright).

and we never did get to play chess

but i’ve still got you in check;

it’s your move.

we

  are humans.

   created/tossed/turned/thrust

    into a world we must learn to call our own.

       welcome to planet earth,

      land slowly, the ground is still hard, and

   look at the wonders creation has graced you with.

               arms. legs. hearts.

                 look how you

  are the only one here--but don’t the stars and the moon and the

 animals surround you? you learn so quick to question the world, in awe of your own voice,

          but when you wait for a response

                                        it is still.

                  you are all alone.

                          human.

your hand unclenches like the guttural roar of a lion letting loose one thousand

            hours away, you reach up

   and let the light come to you, warm/soft/snow that envelops and

     burns and freezes all at once, and you stare.

        little light, are you just like me?

              you get no response.

   all the sudden the light seems heavy and you look through two holes

        conveniently placed on your face

 and you’re watching yourself on a blue and green spherical home with population, there is space

       but why can you not find anyone to fill it, oh, little light,

             you will never be like me.

  never will you watch the sky and dream of the feeling of seeing again

                your best friend,

  never will you remember warm breath on your neck, a new creation.

          (you haven’t seen your co-artist in so long)

  never will you stand on the edge of the water, alone,

         dip your feet into the sand and there is so much

                 humans

             take for granted, little light...

            have you ever made anyone smile?

               have you ever stood in front of your art teacher, watch her beam

      like the sun at the world you’ve created in a canvas, do you even understand

                          what art is?

            of course you don’t, but it’s more comforting to think

  you hear what i’m saying, less awkward to take note of how we are the only species on earth

             who can do so much--why us?

                                why human?

        i could have been born a cat, slinking

              as my only skill to show off my sass, proving 

                   i still have it, 

                  cats are very broken indeed, slink away.

     humans are very broken indeed, cracked and weighed down by the light

            that will never be human, let it go, let it fly back

              into the sky

                  and as it shines down on your

               new identity in the dark, this you know:

                              humans

                      will never be light.