Satellites

You are only
constant in your
changing.
Your waxing,
waning, and
inevitable fading.
But, you return;
open faced
and bright,
drowning stars
setting fire
to night.

You and I,
we hang in space
tethered
by some
invisible thing.
Our orbiting bodies
draw ever near,
your surface swells,
my seas surge.
I’m your perilune.
You’re my perigee.
And in this proximity
we bring a simple
sort of symmetry
to the vast
black
of nothing.

Yes, this is
eternal.
Yes, this is
fleeting.
We are only
constant in our
wavering.

author: rashael crystal
photo credit: Crystal Garcia Photography