The knowing 

I remember the ancient glory of the stars
the vast flinging-out of existence
I remember the creation of planet rings
(soft dust-glow in the darkness)
and the tying down of moons
I remember the truths and the answers
to questions now forgotten
to an essence of this universe no one can grasp
for I have seen beyond the nebula and the galaxies
to the edge of nothing.

A dark twist spun off from a section of the poetic, philosophical and beautifully bright Le Petit Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. 

The last prompt for NaPoWriMo 2016 was to write a poem in a different language or to translate one from a different language. This darker thought came to me as I read through that favourite French masterpiece. But what I really intended to do was write this in translation:

When you look to the sky,
at night,
because I will be living in one of those stars,
because I will be laughing in one of those stars,
it will be for you
as though all the stars are laughing.
For you, the stars will know
how to laugh.


Night is lit up, day-like,
black clouds glow white
shadow-reversed in negative
like so many ghosted figures
looming before the stars.

Beneath this sky
our simple gardens fade
to murky darkness
their leafy features dim,
boundaries diminished.

But out there
beyond this small world
the main show rages
so much bigger, brighter
than anything we yet know.

Inspired both by this story about a giant coronal hole in the sun’s atmosphere, and also by the effect of the downtown lights from a nighttime event shining on rainclouds.