It’s like reaching up with your fingers
And scratching the sky with your nails.
Garish gashes of fiery orange
Soak through —
Is that heaven or is it hell?
To tether at the edge
Of the known world
With the colors of the sunset
Soaking into your soul —
It’s like Woolf says,
“Today I’m in the mood
To dissolve into the sky”
The void calls to me,
In the gentlest of melodies.
It’s different from the temptation I expected
Serenading me into a leap of faith.
It’s almost as if
I’d willingly untie my tether.
Curiosity mingling with mirth
in the palette of emotions.
Are we really made
From the skin and bones
Of the broken stars?
That I can almost touch,
If I give in to the call
And blend with the void.
Are we really made
From the same atoms?
That course through the veins
Of iridescent rainbows,
Thrown from the sprays
Of the tides below.
Are we really
A sum total of our thoughts?
Or are our thoughts
a summary
Of our lifetimes?
A “tl;dr” of every sunset.
That turns us philosopher
And brings us closer
To accepting the inevitable:
l’appel du vide.