Like the universe, she has been here before, and elsewhere.

Traversed ancient space,

Circled supernovae, surfed on waves of light to crash on galaxies of crystal dust,

Kissed comets, woken to their stale morning breath.

Known the darkness before the Word.

Been crushed to an atomic point, extinguished, silenced.

Ceased.

Her chrysalis curled, dry-dead, around itself.

All out of change.

Time calls.  Space unfurls.

She leaps out – scatters suns to burn and hiss and cool,

Paints out new worlds, and

Splatters careless constellations in purple,

Rose and neon green,

Spreads her slow wings, sticky with moon sap.

Sets out, expanding, on the solar winds,

Her time begins…..now.

This poem is for Out of the Chrysalis, who kindly awarded me, some time ago, the One Lovely Blogger Award.  I feel a lot of, what’s the word, fellowship? with Out of the Chrysalis because I, too, have been through the…