I do not lose sight of the insight
that keeps me ongoing, truly radiating, and flowing:
The millions of gas giants, white dwarfs, and all shining orbs of this dark deep grand abyss we call time and space. Within an ever expanding always breathing moving universe. Continuously glaring and glistening in the greater galaxies’ blackness. Is my spiritual religion.
I was not created in the image of an anthropomorphic old bearded father, who doesn’t look like or embody me.
I am the reproduction of grander more extravagant matter. One of these brilliant burning shining multicolored differently sized stars.
I remember to never forget, that the stars not only twinkle at night but in the day. The temporary perceived visible light, does not keep me from this view of truth. For when I am down and overcast by nebulous, or up in luminous. I am still sparkling.
Stars sultrify by sweltering planets, with their thermogenic igneous fire.
Rarely but divinely, it can ensue the creation of life itself.
As it did so for daughter earth.
I too rarely but divinely. Can create life that extends out, in what seems like endless generations. Reflecting the far lit lifespan of our greater stars.
I give incandescent vigor and fever. To those who’ve ever had the pleasure of being exposed, to the varying random rays of my electromagnetic spectrum.
In the greater scope of things. The higher rays of light, emitted by our known observed stupendous star, is absorbed by the earth’s atmosphere.
My hotter levels of radiated energy is remotely reserved for the attachment I have with this cooler earth.
I forever remember, I am a smaller but equally puissant replica of a paramount out there.
Every awakened bright day, I make sure to look down at my feet. Fathoming the further certainty, that I am standing at the center of the celestial globe of togetherness. Attracting and repelling. Pushing and pulling, all that is within our orbit.
This connected oneness formed by the attachment between the bawls of my feet, and the needing to be beamed soil.
Triggers my higher rays.
That scorches the land.
Simmering it,
to prepare for fruition.
By all things
wonderfully
emanating
in existence.
I am created in the image of a star.
######
Silvia Angulo is a feminist poet who’s writing has appeared in publications such as Haggard and Halloo, The Voices Project, and The Room, among others. She currently resides in Queens, NY.