The Scarlett Locket

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It worries me that I have not a word to say, 

not a singular thing to give back to Mother Earth 

that would be worthwhile of my birth. 

A person, I am only, 

chemcially alive yet scarcely concious. 

Insular to you I must be!

Such a miniscule blemish of being.

Please, have my promises of a gratitude

so grand, so extensive, 

my existence be not a limiation- 

my body grazed only when these feelings 

have exited to find a nest 

amongst the vast copper

of your saturated sunsets, 

past the pearl clouds of heavy silver and slate

that have poured me their Viridian blessings.

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When I depart from you, Earth, 

In the fullness of time, 

arriving at the conclusion of life,

and sacred change is finally granted to my state of matter,

Cherish your beauty from afar, perhaps I could-

adore you amongst the heavenly bodies, 

observe the divine mistakes  

that brought you the lush 

accident of life.

In bewilderment, watch will I 

as you recieve 

the blessing of Verdance,

a consecration of abundance 

seen not again in the wilderness of our cosmos.

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Amusing, it is

to be turned back into nothing

but a soul. 

Floating, fluttering, flying-

a tourist skydriving in the societies of stars, 

cruising as smooth as mercury,

past the vermilion iron of Mars 

the millions of moons of Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune,

past the helium and hydrogen of Saturn

and the holy heat of vivacious Venus.

Only if could I 

speed this up and leave behind

all my memories tucked into time,

just to grasp a glimpse of 

you, from the deliverance of beyond,

no diurnal aberrations  

or visionary limitations. 

Just your purity 

and the sweet celebrations of nocturn. 

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‎‎To my little life 

I would never return. 

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