can you see heaven on a string?

sometimes i feel so infinite, when i look at the expanse of the stars and the murky myth of heaven in the clouds. looking through the hands of god, i see the devil perched with a whimsical grin on the horizon of Mars. and to these celestial angels of light and dark, i ask "Is it okay to be pretty in pain?" striving for little more than to feel the sting of something sharp, something beautiful. something glistening in the light that you'd never be able to comprehend in a million years, until you stepped into my skin and coursed through my veins. but that's alright. i don't expect you to understand me. i don't expect you to understand any of this. this isn't me. this isn't you. this is bigger than the both of us, and i have done nothing but let it consume me in the way that it wanted to do. it's a lonely lot in the world, littered with the garbage of the days passers-by, but that's alright with me. i sit with the weeds, invisible and unnoticed, watching the dregs of society mill about, stealing their life away to make ends meet. but that's just the way that it has to be.

an impartial observer. a voyeur. looking through the eyes, and into the window of the soul. looking through the windows along the street, watching them go about their little lives. a step here, a sit there, and dinner at dusk, with the news as background fodder. the simplicity of it all, the intricate simplicity of everyday life is so amazingly beautiful that there is nothing to understand. it is beyond definition. it is everything we strive for. this is the reality we'll never comprehend, because it's right in front of our face, and absolutely invisible. it's the little things that we miss, it's the little things that make everything up. it's the little things that we live for, and few of us even realize it.








....i don't even know....








is anyone paying attention to the stars, the heavens, and the invisible things sitting right in front of you, pulling at your pantleg, trying to get you to look down and notice, for just one second, that there is something bigger than you, even though it is so much smaller?

Reviews

[Mr Whiskers]

Maybe Susan is feeling lazy (no offense Susan)...I love it!
I think its an amazing combination of words and consciousness, touching down in many places on my heart. But my opinion, honestly--I couldn't hepl but read it twice more before even reviewing it because it is so good.
I am also in the frame of mind where conventional poetry format is no longer enough. This was a refreshing read for me.

[Susan S.]

i'm sorry, I'm having a hard time getting up the interest to even begin to tackle this. You call it a poem but it's even more tightly packed than most books. Since a poem is supposed to pack meaning into every word of every phrase, this kind of George Bush wall of words is way too thick for me to push thru. I can't even treat it as a story. Your first sentence isn't a sentence. I think I'm going to give up and go to bed.