Are we waiting for the day
  when paper parachutes will fall from the sky?
      Their wings torn like the dead jellies’ demise-
Those tentacles unfolding into frosted lily cries.

When asked why we wait
  the bonds go slack and we drop our haste,
      daring each other to be the first
to jump the cliff and pray for rain.

We hope the firmament will save these souls subsiding,
  into the velvet veneer of the eternal darkness
      which resides behind heavy lids on stale afternoons,
      when all there is to hope for
is hope itself.

bring down your cobalt arms and swaddle my cries
  until they melt like butter over the canvas of your skies,
      spoon me from the cinders of this spoiling planet
      and pepper me across the night,
until my amber eyes glisten like meteorites.

And when all those waiting people see
  me spattered across the Milkyway,
      they’ll peel open their ghostly chests
as my voice rains down like stars

plummeting into the craters of the peoples’ forgotten years
      until everyone is filled with the sort of light,
that radiates through the fissures of even the most broken hearts.