To Whom It May Someday Concern

I'm looking for that one special somebody

that deserves a love poem.

But at this point,

I’m wondering if we’re star-crossed.

Planetary pandemonium must be erupting in

the outskirts of space.

Supernovas shattering destinies.

Or maybe we’re an interstellar nebula,

on the verge of creation,

awaiting the right conditions.

But I’m having a hard time

figuring out what those are,

I’m watching each solstice slip by,

and every equinox evaporate.

Waiting for when we can stop

dancing through dark matter.

Revolving on the same orbital,

but never intersecting.

All I know for sure is,

I won’t see the stars in your eyes,

I’ll witness the cosmos,

planetary systems elliptically churning,

solar flares gleaming, shooting stars that you can only dream

of wishing off.

Your smile will be the crescent of the sun’s rays,

peeling behind a solar eclipse.

Your laughter a sonic boom,

streaming auroras across the ebony atmosphere.

If times get rough,

we’ll abandon our terrestrial home

And instead, get a nice view,

and watch the world spin.

Celestial beings perched beside the man in the moon.

We’ll see how small we really are,

but realize that’s a lot less pressure than heating an entire solar system.

We’ll play tug-o-war as the moon and the sun,

the earth our planetary pendulum,

Lasso it with an asteroid belt,

pulling the earth a little too far to the left.

23.5 degrees, to be exact.

We’ll watch meteors sizzle into space dust.

The fine powder tickling the nose of the man composed of craters

and he’ll sneeze across the galaxy, spreading

twinkling shards of light out across the eerie field.

Illuminating shadows of deep blues encompassing each star.

And we will connect the dots between

each incandescent body,

just as we will stitch together the gaps in each other’s hearts.

Forming constellations etched onto our backs,

and our palms lined with the same creases.

We will be an event,

of astronomical proportions.

Even as the sun drains down,

its pale heat faded 5 billion years from now,

our luminance will still grow.

We’ll lean against our earth,

counting the stars out loud.

So I guess what I’m saying is:

To whom it may someday concern,

I will love you to the moon, and sun,

and back.