Years ago, I started writing poems.
If you count songs, I started writing poetry in high school, putting the words to fuzzy power chords on a crappy electric guitar (it was a cream Strat knockoff, if you must know, and I replaced the white pick guard with a flame one).
When I dabbled with poetry again a few years ago, it was because a friend challenged me to produce something and share it. At the time, I was writing a lot—editorial content and marketing copy, plus freelance and trying to finish editing a book I would publish a couple years later. Though I hadn’t read poems or thought much about them, other than perhaps a couple stanzas when I was in the mood every few months, something about poetry beckoned me. Maybe it was a change from the usual, or the different tenor and voice of verse as opposed to all the long form stories and work writing that tends to try to persuade rather than simply be. We could probably talk about the heart behind different writings for hours, over stiff drinks and lots of questions.
When I got around to spending some time in quiet and stillness, I jotted down a few lines with whatever inspiration struck. Here’s what emerged.
“Blood of the Stars” — a poem
The blood of the stars flows through your veins.
You are radiant:
A cosmic refraction
Eclipsing all else.
You are mystery:
Unlimited by origin
Unbound in space.
You are brave:
Draped in light
Resilient in love.
You are fervent:
Born of fire
Brazen in darkness.
The blood of the stars flows through my veins.
Thoughts? Share your comment below.
Originally published on Medium.