there’s times when the stars are dark
and murmurs in your skull
degrade all aspects of the world 
where even the sweetest word
screams murder

this is the hole rock bottom falls into

an etching from centuries past
one you would have laughed at
mere years ago
now has the power
to initiate 
the burden of hope
and a scribe 
millions of years old
you carry like a heart 
in your head

but the stars remain unphased
as if the weight
of light
has finally given in
to the ceaseless miseries
of material 
and emotional
entropy

expanding yet decaying life 
for the purpose of death.

and to love beyond this is
not a secret
but a gift.