1,364 Light Years Away

What are these things I stare at in the store?

They’re not legs or asses.

They’re moments of nothingness

that turn into frozen eternities

where the only cognizant thought I have

is how much I love you.

Then I see again

with fluorescence around me.

I have bones that hold me up to go forward

and the sadness of a world at war

begins to live again

for the followers of symbols and power.

Not the philosophers of moments.

The moments are empty here,
ungathered by mortals and products.

It’s what the aliens were calling knowledge

one thousand three hundred and sixty-four

light years away in their past.


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