Stardust

 

Androgynous outsider,
victim of immortality,
a cancer with no growth,
years tested with no rotting
detected. Stars in an urn,
inescapable eternity, poured
into the ocean, driven off a cliff,
flushed away, but it always comes
back. Heavy, wet clay, carried
with aching and resentment.
He grows weary with existing,
mails it off to God himself,
but is vexed with youth when
it’s returned unopened, imprinted
with rejection. He monitors each
exchange of souls, waiting to have
enough of the stuff to buy his way out,
and when he does, the world will
watch the sky, waiting for his
stardust to fall on them.