Degenerate Matter

A bright glow of gold upon a black canvas,

Twinkling forever in the midst of a twilight sea,

Shining above all on Earth.

But the light,

The illumination,

Is not of this moment.

It exists only in the past.

In seeking the light, we miss the shadow,

The dark beneath.

That’s where the story lies.

Like the River Styx

Ever flowing

Glistening in the pale, synthetic light

Of the Underworld.

Forever carrying passengers

Between this world and the next.

Faces serene, accepting their fate

That was written in the stars.

The river never ends,

Only morphs into another

One longer

One stronger

One fuller.

The current continually rushing away

Beneath the world.

On the surface,

We begin by rushing like the river

Running faster and faster

Until we see it

Until it’s too late.

The monstrous current tugs at our ankles.

Our very breath eludes us

And we fall.

Others have fallen before us

Brought to their knees.

Why, then, do we not look to the past,

Look to the stars,

And defy them?