the furthest sky

the furthest sky

The furthest sky at night is
the ceiling of our dreams,
the enticing soft geometry
of desire, and we know
its brightness, sight unseen.

The frozen stars, the years of light,
of interstellar vacuum, once swirled
with all my childish magic,
but now those future ghosts are gone,
their tinsel’s faded to a glimmer.

Yet when the moon is sweet and full,
an opalescent lark
flutters wings upon my pillow,
and her flame calls out
the burning yesterdays,
the birefringent fires
of my becoming.

Once in the hush of night
I thought I heard her whisperβ€”

You use the gift of your imaginings
to watch Narcissus
as he plucks his eyebrows in the mirror,

but you could see another place,
that still your world might be.


background

  • Poet’s Picnic in Collected Poems of Michael Dransfield (1948-1973), University of Queensland Press, 1993
  • discovery of the Proxima b planet which may support life, 4.3 light years distant, nearby and still so far away
  • my short story the water moon which appeared in Fantasy Scroll Magazine, where the imaginary moon is a little old-fashioned but a great place for a holiday

artwork
the furthest sky, numerical abstract art

21 thoughts on “the furthest sky

  1. “the ceiling of our dreams” = beautiful – made me think of space and then infinity and so then – there is no limit to our dreaming, possibilities are endless πŸ™‚

  2. my favourite so far; i hadn’t thought about dreams having ceilings before but i suppose they do. also thanks for following and checking out my poetry, i appreciate it steve. mel.

    • For over a century in the realish world, physicists have been saying they’ve just about reached the end. Now they think they can’t look beyond this universe. And in speculative fiction, people say there are no new ideas.

      I say guess again, the furthest sky is further away and closer than we think. Stepping off soapbox now :).

  3. Thank you for reading some of my work. I’m returning the favour and am delighted by the strength of your words and the threads of meaning and imagery they create. Do you do the accompanying art too?

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