Celestial Musings

Welcome back, poetry people!

The star-studded night sky, the vast deep reaches of space, and the endless comparatively empty void is a blank canvas that ignites the imagination like no other. Everything we are and everything that makes up our planet also exists somewhere out in the universe. Scientists tell us some of the things we are entranced by and use in all sorts of applications, like gold, aren’t even naturally occurring here on Earth but crashed into it from some celestial body and just stuck around.

That’s the stuff sci-fi stories are made of. But it’s true! Truth, they say, is stranger than fiction, and that’s why learning about the world, the universe we live in, is so fantastic and inspiring. The truth is many times more amazing, complex, and impressive than even the most entertaining stories.

When truth and fiction combine

Because the cosmos is so mysterious and inscrutable, you can write almost any scene into the space between the stars. You could make a fantastic space opera with aliens or other creatures populating a dramatic civilization not unlike our own; you can pepper your poetry with scientific terms, grounding your reader in reality. You can lean into the anxiety the cold emptiness breeds, building up a suspenseful cosmic horror.

Magic realism is one of my favorite genres because there is so much wonder and magic all around us and certainly up above us. One of the most healing and transformational experiences we can give ourselves is to indulge in our childlike wonder and gaze up at the stars. Whether with a telescope, searching out particular groupings and planets, or lying on our backs, touching the grass, imagining what miracles are coming into existence all the time.

Cosmic Collision

For me, one of the critical elements of cosmic poetry is atmosphere. I try to cultivate a vast, distant quality about it. I kept to short truncated lines in this particular piece—lots of pauses, movement, and resonant imagery. Darkness, of course, is essential, but it can’t be all blackness all the time, or we would have no image. One of my favorite things to look at is the gorgeous colorized photos ¹ taken from the telescopes used to learn about deep space. Those are very inspirational.

This poem is meant to feel like floating in the void. It’s the meeting of two great cosmic entities, all-encompassing yet aging, expanding and releasing their energy into the universe. Until that fateful moment, they collide and start the miracle of creation anew. Never again coming together as they grow, gaining their own mass and gravity.

Cosmic Collision

From the moment I was born
raging
into glorious burning existence
sucking up
every molecule
of stray oxygen
racing
to every far-flung corner
of the universe
I’ve yearned
for this ecstatic meeting

The frenetic
cosmic collision
capable of catapulting
every spark and
mote of light
and life within me
enlivening them
in a cloud of
stabbing shards and
spectral stardust
radioactive energy
glowing
an eye-numbing black

Though no pupils
ever view this debris storm
in the vast
frozen vacuum of space
the ruins
of some forgotten civilization
made
of a cruel, broken, languid fate
still lying in wait
degrading
in hypnotizing splendor

An eroded diamond sand
blowing
in the inter-galactic winds
of lilac escape
every drop
another portal
to the mythical land
of casting off reality’s goals
recalling to mind
your heart’s deepest desire

The longest-lasting tool
in creation
of the
endless expanse
now filling
your
dusty
deserted soul
the same pulsating silence
overwhelming
your ears
as you float
forever
in your soul’s igniting core

Swimming glitter seas
swallowing up
entire galaxies
with their epic shine
sending out
strobing signals
to the lighthouses
of distant heartshores
wading through
the silvery shallows of time

As the waves of
darkshine
subside
in the cosmic rippling tides
pulled in
by moonshine
surfing on the rings
that have started to collect
in the space between
our
heavenly bodies

Having
their own atmosphere
tends
to cause a lack
of interaction
between two
great
swirling pools
of gravitational passion
spindles
of fiery life
flaring
and screaming out
into the existential silence
of the blinking
light-bright screen
we call a sky

Picking At The Threads

We have been incorporating cosmic horrors into our mythology since time immemorial. Though we associate our modern definition of the concept with H.P. Lovecraft, he was drawing from Mythology around the world to create his own new mythology. Something writers are doing every day to greater or lesser degrees of success.

This piece starts to get into the spaces between. In literary circles, cosmic horrors have become synonymous with otherworldly monsters. But that doesn’t have to be the case. One of my favorite Cosmic horrors is the color out of space. It could be described as a monster, sure; it eats livestock and kills people, but I would describe it more as a killer concept. And just like you can get more scare factor out of never seeing a monster than showing a poorly designed suit or poorly rendered CGI effects on screen, I think a lot can be gained from a good concept of an antagonist rather than just a monster.

Picking At The Threads

loose threads
twiddle and fray
in the cosmic winds
bend and sway
I’ve seen snags in the
fabric of reality
gathering and puckering
yet somehow
never completely
giving way

the indescribable
torrent of color
pouring through
melts
and fragments
sending chunklets
spitting
through the atmosphere

raining down in
fiery chaos
splintering into
glassy
igneous reminders
of what dreams may come
finally
hearing the radiance pulse
with an otherworldly
sheen
draws all attention to the
universal constant
change

Neural Inertia

This is a piece I wrote on the cool down off of an autistic meltdown. Not all meltdowns have a specific identifiable trigger, at least not one with any substantial meaning. This one stemmed from overstimulation all the way through; my whole body had started to feel pressurized, like all of my nerves were catching from an electrical fire, and finally, I just had to let it go. I turned on the music and let the energy take me out to the stars.

The same sort of images are often conjured up, like floating underwater or shooting off into space; focusing on the image can help, at least for me, not get pulled into the feelings of anxiety and pain and keep letting it flow out of me. Plus, I get a poem out of it at the end: boom, Silver lining.

Neural Inertia

A mind in motion
continues on
mustering momentum
along a preset trajectory
dropping dead weight
watching it splatter
on the atmosphere below
feeling gravity
trying to rip me in twain
G forces intending
to scramble up my brain
finally weightless
from the racing heart within
spinning in a capsule
sipping droplets
from the space between
one kicking flip
I’m sky-dancing
through cosmic rays
light sparking
from fingertips
and streaming
from every open cavity
never slowing
only ever picking up speed
I keep whipping myself
round and around
if skillfully done
will propel you forward
not topple you
off of your feet
accelerating towards
the pulsating light
leaning in
letting off the controls
riding the wings
of autopilot
allowing my mind
full field of expansion
finally touching down
gaining a little traction
making ripples in the glass
tiptoeing in
the troughs of the waves
spring-boarding past
each tensing step
wringing out
lengthening musculature
escaping visible breath
an ethereal nimbus

Black Hole Heart;

Never Would I Let You Love Me

The last time I told someone about the truth of my past, just a few small pieces, they said I was self-sabotaging. If I actually wanted to make friends, I would never tell anyone that stuff, and then they stopped talking to me shortly after. It becomes difficult at a certain point. If that is the case, I can’t share anything about myself because it will inevitably lead to a bad story. I wouldn’t just have to mask; I would have to hide everything. It would take making up a false backstory and telling people lies to avoid it because every single part of my life has been touched by it. My entire universe was built on a web of lies and abuse.

Everyone else sees themselves as these life-giving suns, and I’m just a black hole threatening to suck up their energy because even the act of looking at my face makes them sad and siphons away their light. So I desperately fight to stay at arm’s length with people, but even that’s “too much.”

Every time someone says these things to me, I feel it’s true, like, of course, they don’t deserve to have their life ruined simply by knowing me. Until I scrape myself off of the floor and wonder: why is merely knowing me such a hardship? And more importantly, why do people keep asking if they don’t really want to know? Why would that make me the one sabotaging things? For telling the damning truth.

Black Hole Heart;

Never Ever Would I Let You Love Me

I am night
You, you are the sun
I am not even the moon
More of a voracious black hole
A collapsing reminder
Of a universe in decay
You are the light, the life, and the day
Never shall the two come to meet
Or the world would suddenly be incomplete
What would we do without happiness and joy
If my darkness were to eat your rays
Fore the beginning of their journey, each day
Sucking every molecule of light into my core
Breaking it down and incorporating it
Into my own vacuous heart
The pain and destruction would all suddenly
Actually, be my fault
So turn away, but please don’t cease
My gravity allows it to waft
Melody and bridge over the wind
As I hungrily drink your aura in
Like the fizzy punch of tonic against my
Parched dry lips

Magical Sunset

I wrote this poem based on the Prompt:

Something magical happens as the sun disappears over the horizon.

I got this prompt from the random word generator I sometimes use to grab a few words or other ideas for inspiration on a poem. Next week, I should do a whole prompt-based newsletter. I love writing from prompts and took it one step further with this one. I also created an AI-generated picture for it. I no longer use this AI generator, so You will rarely see one like this Watermarked with Gencraft.

I took the prompt and fed it into the art generator. I can’t remember. It has been quite a while since I made this art piece, but I think I chose something like celestial as the art style. I took the word and art prompt and wrote the poem below from those inspirational reference points.

This is meant to capture the sensory experience of sunset. There is so much going on at that mystical time; the moon shares the sky with the last rays of sunlight. The air starts to change viscosity as the insects buzz in the beams of light. The night begins to slip its velvety gloves over the daytime.

Magical Sunset

There is something savory
created in the air
that swishy twilight stillness
When the sun has disappeared
but light still
floats among us
Like some kind of haunt
extending our day
just a little longer
If only we believe in the light
that is quickly being
sucked away
right over the sparkling horizon
it might keep on staying
Mightent we clap for it?
Like a dying fairy
add our breath
coax it back into life
The last embers of a fizzled campfire
What if we chased it as it
passed out of the sky?
Like the butterfly that alights
upon the fresh summertime
meadows of our
tired wintry minds
What would we find,
could we catch the sunset?
Or would we be consumed by the chase?
Seeking this grand celestial lie
for that is the magic
the sun never sets
It only runs from its
problems and desires
Eternally leaving them
for the moon to watch
over and cry for the gravity
of such a collection
of grievances

There is literally no end to the inspiration available when we turn our attention to the stars. The boundless black and infinite generative power to be found in each celestial body is at our disposal. Our hearts can see the creative energy swarming through the universe; stardust lives inside each of us. Let’s harness that power and infuse our lives and art with the power of the cosmos, letting it take off.

Next week will be all about the inspirational power of prompts and some of the pieces I have written from fully formed prompts, as well as random word collections.

Until Next week,

K.B. Silver

Lowndes, Coleman. “How Scientists Colorize Photos of Space.” Vox, 1 Aug. 2019, www.vox.com/2019/8/1/20750228/scientists-colorize-photos-space-hubble-telescope. Accessed 8 Feb. 2024.