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Sparks from a Broken Universe
Tonight through an open window,
I see sparks from a broken universe.
I grieve in moonlight, wanting you to somehow hold me on the birthday of your death.
Oh God, just for a moment let me find comfort and softness in the dark Before the night surrenders to dawn.
All day I follow the sun, that dying white dwarf of a star in the sky, But I’m blinded by pain.
Every night my dreams are always on the border Of becoming nightmares, and I wake up a weeping stone.
A votive candle flickers on the table behind me, Lighting my insatiable desire to glue back the universe.
The Stars Above the Stars
Drinking limoncello out of a small, yellow, hand-painted glass, I watch the moon rise over the nearby Coliseum.
But hearing the call of the water closet, I descend the café stairs leading to the basement.
Ten steps down, I’m in the Middle Ages, when this café was a bakery, and there’s a layer of charred-red bricks by the iron handrail.
Seven steps more, I’m in the Roman Empire, when it was a tannery.
There, some of the original wooden beams remain exposed.
Five minutes and one Euro later, I climb the stairs back to The 21st Century and find my table and chair by the window.
I wonder about the layers of light in the universe, The stars above the stars,
And I imagine all the fathomless possibilities, Pulsating and beaming above me tonight.
The Mission
God was looking down from Heaven,
and He couldn't believe
all the violence and wars He saw.
So He sent down an angel
to check things out on earth,
and to see if she could find
anything good and kind left.
A long time passed
before the angel came back,
and when she returned.
She was carrying a small jar
with a little drop inside.
Then God asked the angel,
"What is inside the jar?"
And the angel gently whispered,
"It's a tiny tear of joy."
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