by Ryan Stone
Why consider a new page
To be anything other than hope
Poised for flight?
Like a virgin in an olive grove
Waiting for her toes to curl.
I once stared at a puddle so long
A rainbow appeared.
I believe reality
Is a matter of perspective.
Perception.
I believe
There are many kingdoms
Other than this.
You know what it feels like
When you lie on your back,
Throwing wishes at stars
And then you see a satellite
Orbiting your world?
Launched before your birth,
It will still beam data
Well past your death,
And that's when it hits you:
Those bright points are mortal—
Fleeting dreams,
Galaxies
A million years dead.