Nebulous Phantasmagoria Poem by Harley White

The seas roll on at Nature's whim
as winds wail like a theremin.
Yet shines through heavens' inky scrim
the starlight of a seraph in—

or is it an illusion's spell
that tries to penetrate the dark
in cloudy interstellar hell
of lightlessness without a spark? —

while bubble branes in spatial tide
of oceanic cosmic waves
rush onward with celestial stride,
some colliding or in close shaves,

outside our string-dimensioned sphere,
swept out in space-time's quantum flow,
world-volume that is gathered here
into the universe we know…

Did we not heed the serpent's hiss?
Have karmic causes gone amiss?
What existential realm is this
where we seem sunk in an abyss?

Or is it projected despair
that's embodied in outer space
through pitch-blackness manifest there
of a doleful nebula face?

All those queries rhetorical
pertaining to visions widespread
voice viewpoints allegorical
that give vent to downhearted dread.

Earth nights shy away from first gleams
of dawning days transitory.
Though despondency endless seems,
it's only part of the story.

As brilliance and shadow contrast,
or laughter with tears of sorrow,
may hopelessness fade to the past
and there be a bright tomorrow…