Erik Estabrook


Darkness, sparks wit, find your moral compass,

leaves shed their first skin,

becoming one with the Earth again,

Bloom and bloom again,

as people converse with angels

Sparking heavens fascinations


I see oceans mists and wondrous forests,

people with their habits and forces of reality,

but I look above it all and

find connection with lost poets and dead arts,

Gravitating a lunar orbit waiting for the stars calling,


A sister moon in fine space garments

she waves hello and goodbye at the same time,

and I am crushed,

because being tied to the Earth isn’t for me,


No cave fizzure, or stunning gas cloud formation can convince this is home,

we walk in and out, sometimes through glass doors,

All waiting to shatter, to be enveloped by forces not matter


This grows inside, my indignation,

On earthly souls and how they abuse aliens,

How they writhe and wither, slink and slither,

All matching wits that massacre beauty incarnate,

and the witless themselves they sneer and snicker taught by those before

that there can be no differences,


So I slink and snarl but to myself I whisper,

“This Earth, they think its everything in existence,

but I’ve been shown the world by my little star sister”


copyright 2013@Erik Estabrook