Prehistoric Particles

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Photo Credit: edlo at deviantart.com

I am jurassic,
prehistoric in my pieces,
my planes and valleys.

Each breath
begs forgiveness
for colliding with the gravity
of your star,
the vapors and particles
that collectively make you,
create you
into something ancient yet new,
familiar yet foreign,
pieces I’ve met
and ones I’ve never seen.

I orbit in your galaxy
of earth-shaking meteors
that will wipe me
from this place
I pretend is home,
and I don’t care
that the end is here.

I don’t care
how I will die
in ash and flame
because for a moment
we were close enough
to feel
the death of before
and the birth of after,
close enough
to reach out
and touch the end.

***

This was written in response to the Wicked Word Wednesday prompt, jurassic. First time I’ve done this one, so go vote by clicking the link and enjoy!

~Patience

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