The day is fading fast.
The tired skies rub its heavy eyes.
The solar blast will rest at last, in view of twilights hue.
Seeking a falling star in the cosmos far.
I do not wish upon its fate, what destiny will it create?
Dark silhouettes and other luminous matter the nebula has scattered.
Just a piece of the distant world circling from now till time is done.
Are we alone, do others struggle to atone?
I have many places I could be, yet, I gaze within the wonder of the open sky.
In deep galaxies, afar, the supernova is held in the heart of a dying star.
Apr 27, 2019
Dying Star
About This Poem
Last Few Words: At the time of death, the star omits its greatest splendor. Perhaps death is not the end.
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
skies rubbing their heavy
skies rubbing their heavy eyes is a great image. and a good intro to a poem, where you're waking up to a new revelation. this is a great tribute to all the sky has to offer our imagination. I like the internal rhymes. technically, the tired skies rub "their" heavy eyes, not "its" heavy eyes. welcome to neopoet, if you haven't been here before!