Solace Poem by Mark Heathcote

Of course, the night will gather us
And fold us back into the stars
Back into her dark, mysterious charms
Back into her ebony, lifeline palms.

The universe is-beauteous
Her pitted-spangled-eyes her black holes
Wanting only to devour us whole
She is like a black mole, blind, so studious?

We fear death will close our eyes
Make us eyeless in that darkness
But even in sleep, there are sunlit skies
Moments of joyful solace.