There must be an angel looking over your shoulder.
There must be, even if you
Never see her,
There are creatures on other, Worlds,
That look like us but, For the clothing they wear;
…delicate, gauze-like materials, that blaze…
…yet do no harm.
One visited last night, pointing out my story, -where I had come from and where I was going-
Billowing from a turquoise dress, As she beckoned.
We traveled in straight lines and at fantastic speeds,
I was not afraid.
“Come,” she said, “Look here.”
“In this ocean there are many levels, Much like your own we just,
Live, In the waters…”
And I look at the ocean she is pointing out,
Like the metal Mercury, lit By an amber Sun.
“The ones with technology,” she continued, “Live deep within the Mantle,
And breath a finer form of this liquid, Than your air.”
“How do they move?”, I ask,
“Their locomotion”, she says, “Is fueled,
By magnetic fields in cold gas.”
It is not in the splitting of radiant metals, Rather,
In the special densities, Of Gold in the right chambers,
The surfaces of Neutron Stars, Super-conducting,
Immiscible in the sludge, That allows them to breath,
And to replicate, And to think.
The creatures on the surface sting, but the planet is defended,
By those further down, And the fumes they exude.
All beings discover that light will not be overtaken,
That travel is not powered, It is carried,
In handbags if you will,
And I saw people long dead, Connected to people still alive,
Creating those to be.
The last thing I remember was a string of pearls she was holding,
In her pale, lussatite hands.
-short evocative poetry-