We are young.
Entire worlds at our fingertips,
Galaxies shining in our jewelry,
We pull stars down from the sky.
(It is raining light.)
We are immortal.
We feast and celebrate among the nebulae,
Civilizations commemorate our exploits,
They build stone temples to reach us.
(They never can.)
We are aging.
Darling, there are parts of your smile missing,
Someone put the waves in our skin,
Where did the silver in our hair come from?
(Once upon a time, it was gold, bronze, ink.)
We are falling.
The wind creeps too easily into our bones,
Our monuments are tumbling down to dust,
Everything is a blink.
(Even gods can die.)
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.