Eternity

Posted on by Sarah A. Hoyt

The birth of stars is ours

As is their end, in imploding

Echoing nothing

The expanses of forever are ours

Beyond the places where scientists dream

And the places children visit in their voyages

Of unending creation

The frontiers of always belong to us

We know ‘I will always love you’

‘I will always miss you’

‘I will always…’

Through the magic of language

Of imagination

Of shared humanity and hope

We can be parts of minds that were extinguished

Centuries before we had being

We can create and live in

Minds and worlds yet to be

Yes

Sometimes we get tired and distracted

This vessel that is part of us too

And in which we carry our instruments

Of forever

Gets sick or tired

Gets cold

And stinks of fear

Sometimes the fight against

Those who would confine us

Those who would restrict us

Those who would still our ability to dream

Drenches us in loss and despair

Sometimes

Like a child or a cat

We reject the shining toy

For the disappointing cardboard box

But eternity is ours

And we can clutch it

In the uncertainty of our minds

Like a child grabbing the string

Of a sky climbing kite

In a chubby and sweaty hand

To ask for more

Would be churlish

 

27 thoughts on “Eternity”

  1. We can be parts of minds that were extinguished
    Centuries before we had being
    We can create and live in
    Minds and worlds yet to be

    I love this part.

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  3. Never give in to the constraints of little minds
    who would confine our thoughts
    to the paths they have set up
    resist the attempt to make us sheep
    guided by the evil shepherd
    who would confine us to a vice of despair

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  4. “We reject the shining toy
    For the disappointing cardboard box    ”

    There is a lot to be said in favor of a giant cardboard box. It can be a T.A.R.D.I.S., a train, a rocket ship, a fallout shelter, a bunker, a cavern deep within the Earth, a storefront, a lecture hall, an operating room, a transmodrifier — all before lunch.

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      1. One fun Frazz comic was when Caulfield was explaining that the week after Christmas, he had broken all his toys and the house was filled with empty boxes he could use as cat toysl.

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      2. My condolences. I keep thinking my addiction to alliteration and rhyme got stomped, and…

        Dangit.

        *grin* All seriousness, good piece. If ya had to fall off the wagon sometime, this was a pretty good landing.

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  7. Bits of it remind me of a Ray Bradbury poem (yes, he wrote them).

    On a search, though I can’t find the full text — just the snippet “To own the universe, our aim…vault Mars, and win the stars with flame” — it’s “Nor is the Aim of Man to Stay Beneath a Stone”, from his collection “The Haunted Computer and the Android Pope.”

    After being out of print for a long time (I found a copy in a library long ago, and, wanting to keep it, was able to buy one used from Amazon, but now it’s in a box somewhere), it’s available in ebook form, though not on the US Amazon site (check the UK one if you’re interested).

    Technology is beautiful; search is wonderful.

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