Sun and EarthWhen I was young, our love was fierce;
You wore feathers
And painted yourself blue
Tearing your heart out for my pleasure

But I grew older, and cooled
And so too did your ardor
You no longer sent me gifts
Or wrote poems in my honor
And I knew then you had given
Your adoration to another

He seduced you with flattery

Promising the secrets of the gods
And wooing you away in metal ships
Powered by miniature mockeries of me

But your new lover failed you
And now – now, when I am dying
Bloated, dim and red
Like your fickle blood –
You return to me
Having found no haven outside my arms

You realize you have no life without me
And yet you still seek to pacify me
With pale imitations of what we once shared –
Imitations he taught you to make

I will not be jilted, or cheated
I will not accept your clones
In lieu of your worship
There is no sacrifice where there is no loss
And you cannot truly give your heart
When you can simply grow another

Willing or not, you can no longer resist my pull
We are bound together, you and I
My birth spawned yours; likewise, my death
Our love began with an explosion

It ends now the same way

Copyright © 2007, Marsheila Rockwell

Image Credit: Space Studies Institute

Marsheila (Marcy) Rockwell is a Rhysling-nominated poet and author who lives and writes in sunny AZ with her Naval officer husband, two sons, and far too many books. She is a member of both the SFPA and SFWA and has been published in numerous on-line and print venues. To find out what she's working on currently, check out: