Major Tom

and on this day….he stepped off into…..
RIP.
.“I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I promise it won’t be boring.”
― David Bowie

Chimera Poetry

What is a doorway for 
but a place for stepping through
to enter somewhere else
and if the light that waits across the threshold is strange…
I know it’s still time to go
and my dark forebodings are bleached by the bright white Sirrah spills across
my visor 
I am floating in a most peculiar way and that distracts me
and I forget 
until it’s too late
and looking back see that the door has closed
with a final unremarkable snick 
and I drift 
counting my life in heartbeats
 not the years I’d expected
and wonder if I am returning
or discovering
and if my last thoughts will join this cosmic fabric
as legend
or if I will merely float
a seed pod carried along the strange light
far far above the blue planet
 
@jayetomas2014

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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