No one has measured the waters of space —

indeed, how can they be known?

.

If, though being mortal, you could somehow breathe in the void

and with your bare feet tread nothingness,

you would feel the ripples in the liquid blackness

brush against your skin.

.

Light, they say,

light is what ripples the darkness

out in those seas that no one has named

to whose depths belong the stars.

.

But what do we call this light

now that it has all but lost its voice,

one pure spark flung from the heart of some ancient inferno

and lost in the drift of stronger tides?

.

How this seed of a star

could find a final resting place within your naked eye

after weathering eons

and there flower into reverence —

.

perhaps it is enough

to hear only rumors of mysteries

from this small planetary harbor

and dream in peace.

.

_{Copyright 2020 Cherise Mabb}

_{Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash}

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