Joanna Newsome

If I could write this, I could die happy:

"We could stand for a century,
staring,
with our heads cocked,
in the broad daylight, at this thing:

Joy,
landlocked in bodies that don't keep -
dumbstruck with the sweetness of being,
till we don't be.
Told: take this,
Eat this.

Told: the meteorite is the source of the light
And the meteor's just what we see;
And the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee.

And the meteorite is just what causes the light,
And the meteor's how it's perceived;
And the meteor's a bone that's thrown from the void that lies quiet in offering to thee."