Half-Life
Poem by Erin Moen
7/15/2002
Cosmic-ly,
a nano second or less
comprises half-life gained
by speck of dust
electrified to life
in planet's waters
of birth.
Galactic-ly,
pushed onwards
by forces removed from
beings awareness
and powered
by fate's choice
of life.
System-ly,
bound by gravity
and ruled by physics
of carbon's complex life,
dynamics of atmosphere
and examined
to death.
Planet-ly,
standing on dirt
clutching onto belief
of self-preservation
run by instincts
and dreaming of
after-life.
I turn a year older.
Spirals of Spirits
Poem by Erin Moen
7/31/2002
Spirits,
unborn souls, earthly deaths,
riven, or lost, where do they go?
Spirals of soul-lives
spinning and
waiting...
marveling...
flying...
"aware",
and then
sliding...
seeking...
soaring...
down to
here,
now,
why not then,
there,
why not on
the moon,
or a galaxy far away?
What if I was a light being?
Speaking in colors,
creating magnificent verbalized paintings
in the blackest void, just
because
I wanted to see the contrast
of absence of light
by
creating light, not one color,
but cosmic rainbows of
speculation, of wondering hues,
of love of space, colors of the soul.
What if I was
a huge, sharply-shapely
crystal, solidified life, checking
the angles of space by
traveling with lines
of parallelisms
and obtuseness?
How would I
see me,
as I am
now...
my
spirit
lives.
I see me
as a triumph, an epiphany
of crystal and light,
a merging of experimentation,
a start with no ending
a fragile clarity
with radial
striations linking me
to
this
now...
continuing
the spiral.
I would like to feature your work on my
Current Guest Feature
page!
I am excited to be displaying the work of many fine artist and writers, here, "Through My Window."
Submission Link on the Left
