Behind the Clouds

by Aidan Aboud

The streaks of black stung the sky,

Like the inky release of frightened depths.

Inside the gloom,

Behind the clouds,

Only shadows awaited us,

Chasing ghastly reflections of human vice,

We spread our spawn among the stars,

Did we deserve life?

Have the right to spread our own?

To perpetuate the very origin of sin,

Into the silent, holy spaces that eluded us?

What did we hope to achieve?

Our sacrilegious,

Perilously expansive,

Derision.

We were told of,

Humanity, peeling away,

Like a cloak of skin,

From the vulnerability of our souls.

Sent as guardians,

We brought destruction.

Hailed as heroes,

We were iniquity incarnate.

The crumpled page,

The ink stain,

Across the great history of creation.

And now – as the mark of our passage,

The dying flame of another planet,

—Torn asunder by great machines,

Of material borne ill-will—

Putters out,

Silence rings clear across a desecrated land,

The spin grinds to a halt,

And the skies, so uncannily tempting,

Once again deliver us,

Into the ill-gotten sanctity,

Of space.