Stardust

If it’s true that we are dust

and that from the moment of birth

we are heading towards death,

then are not all our words

like a dying breath—

an exhalation of hope

that our voices will be heard

after we’re gone?

Like the light of stars

shining for years,

sending light across the universe

long after the star has burnt out.

Are we perhaps,

though weak and frail

yet destined for eternity,

little flurries of stardust?

A Flame Undying

We would that the leaves be ever green
but it is in their turning
in their burning colours
that they become precious

It is in their being stripped bare
that the trees make us long
for a beauty eternal

A flame undying
A love unending

An embrace of safety
without fear quaking
without us shaking

A peace to still the trembling
of our mortal hearts

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