Poetry

Meditations after the Supernova

The sun goes supernova and all that remains is beauty.
The blue and watery eye of our globe 
blinks and disappears without an elegy or valediction.
Nothing escapes,
the masses evaporating
as one expression of heat and light.
All our oiled motion ends in a drifting thing of clouds.
Corruption whirls in a luminous well as the galaxy spins.
Infant stars 
clump out of the infinite,
yet invisible magnetic flood.
Gravity bends time 
and an ocean of gas arises to glow like a great lamp, 
grand and serene, bright as any moon.
Dan Guenther 

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