(Poem 308 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Once every few million
years or so, space
likes to be silly and play
her version of Mother-
may-I with the stars
and planets, laughing
until she’s out of breath
and needs a millennium
to get herself right again.
@Home Studio – 308th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Space Playing photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 78 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The flame of wisdom
is held aloft by an aged
snail who carries a galaxy
on her back as she glides
through the universe
leaving a trail of stars
in her slow-moving wake.
The wax that drips forms
rings around planets and
her eyes see through
time to the essence of
reality’s lover—authenticity.
She’s best friends with
both integrity and prudence
and the enemy of hubris.
When she tires, she rests
on the banks of compassion
until her spirit is restored,
then resumes her course.
Her gravity is the perfect
balance of curiosity and
contentment, and her laughter
creates starquakes like
cosmic fireworks brilliantly
painting heaven’s expanse.
@Home Studio – 78th poem of the year
Runner ups for the snail candle photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 