April is National Poetry Month. Here’s today’s Poem-A-Day Challenge prompt from Robert Lee Brewer of Writer’s Digest:
Welcome to day two of the April Poem-A-Day Challenge. Anyone can show up for one day; it’s the people who show up for the second day who are really in this challenge to get their poem on.
For today’s prompt, write a space poem. Your poem could be about outer space or inner space. It could opine on the social spacing much of the world is currently doing. Or poets can write an ode to having the space to write or read or whatever. Honestly, I’ll be disappointed if there isn’t a Star Wars or Star Trek inspired poem today. Now, I’ll back off and give everyone plenty of space to write their poems today.
image via NASA
Musica Universalis
Yesterday I met you in space.
It had been such a long time,
I was overcome with being near you
With music filling my ears
and sunlight — dappled through blowing leaves —
glowing behind my closed eyelids,
suddenly I was there
”From stardust you are made,
and to stardust you shall return.”
As the stardust of me flew
nearly light speed
through the cosmos
I sensed the stardust of you
all around me
“There you are,”
I said without words.
”This is where you went.”
And I swirled and mingled
and danced with you
through galaxies
but could not hold on.
I had to come back home.
__________
An explanation, both for you the reader, and for myself when I come back and wonder what I was talking about here. In 2020, I’m focusing on mindfulness. As a part of my grief work, I’ve committed to doing some sort of mindfulness practice daily, whether that’s yoga, guided meditation, or simply listening to soothing music and being present in the moment.
Yesterday, I opened up the meditation-focused app Insight Timer, and chose a piece of music to listen to called Cosmic Flow | Delta Brainwave System by Insight Timer contributor Patrick Lynen. I believe I had listened to it once before, but this time it had an incredible effect on me. I have a yoga bolster, which is basically a big cylindrical cushion, and I sat at one end and laid back until the back of my neck rested at the other end with my head draped over. The sun was shining through the big tree out front into my plant room, where I like to do my mindfulness exercises, and I closed my eyes, while beams of sunlight danced across my face. Suddenly the music and the lights transported me, and I could imagine the stardust atoms of Rader swirling around the stardust atoms of me. It was such a compelling visual, and the deepest desire of my heart, I just got completely swept away with it.
Musica universalis, the music of the spheres, is not actual, audible music. [According to Wikipedia, “The musica universalis (literally universal music), also called music of the spheres or harmony of the spheres, is an ancient philosophical concept that regards proportions in the movements of celestial bodies—the Sun, Moon, and planets—as a form of music. This ‘music’ is not thought to be audible, but rather a harmonic, mathematical or religious concept.”] But I felt the term captured my experience.