The stars are shards of glory peeking through a vast unknown
They affirm when they pierce
the darkness,
the void,
everything that sets my chest ablaze
and my hands to ice as I lay awake
in my quilted fortress.

Heaven exists — heaven exists — heaven exists —

Whether it’s multi-armed Vishnu
Or slyly smiling Oppenheimer
a pencil to his lips
wishing the world away with his creation
hand on the button to your skin dripping off your bones
You: a pile of
"human remains".

Death is destroyer of worlds.

And each time you open your eyes to the fickle glow of life itself
It’s like opening a hard-boiled egg —
each moment is the little crumble of shell
in a pile on the table.
You struggle to peel if off,
But you expose the soft interior
Of vulnerable
consumable
fear.

Death is destroyer of the twinkly lights
The swaying grasses tickling your knees
and back when you trip and tear
The skin off your knees, the tears in the corners
of your eyes
And your father pulling you up, cool hands on small shoulders
Pushing you off to college
Falling away and growing cold —

Destroyer of the needles in your chest
Your first goldfish flushed down the toilet.
And the second one
Squishy, vulnerable, googly eyes
But the last one didn't come with caution tape.

Death is
Destroyer of your breathless mouth and wind-shocked hair
stumbling off your first roller-coaster
laughter dissolving into the roaring afternoon
Destroyer of your swollen heart at the sight
of your dearest companion
hanging the moon above your head
punching holes in your vast unknown
crinkling the corners of your eyes
beautiful.

And I’m praying to defeat this monstrous emptiness
To collect every drop of water as it spills over the sides
of the fountain of my youth.
To worship the space it creates.

But won’t all my effort be destroyed
When I am become death, and lose my world forever?