Nebula3

by Kevin Kreiger

sky shot through
with storm that may not storm,
tropes like exotic
dancers who are all for you & not
for you at all. xmas slips
into the heart the way
ants swarm,
sudden regiments
across the food-free steppes
of his home, mystics
whose purpose
he considers for days
without success.
he cannot content
himself with the mere
getting there from here
anymore than he can forget
that he is home alone,
disimbue the actual
of the personal he cannot
help but infuse.
he imagines each of the lights
that spread like veils of creation
from his balcony to the sea
a world, a swirl of gaiety
& comfort & love. objectivity
inert in that unsung
space between mind & soul,
awaiting a rush of water-strewn air,
a breath of faith, yes,
faith in what the sense cannot refuse,
what simply brutally is,
ants doing what ants
only see fit to do,
the glints of countless joys & cares
pinned to another ending,
another solitary man who dares
the vast nothings between the stars
& knows himself to be whole.

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