Screaming From My Throne of Stars
Bryan Thao Worra
Were we wise, we’d have slain that orange arhat
On the spot 39 bygone millennia when he “blessed” our house
To reach every star we saw that bright august night.
What karmic weight we since incurred, hurling
Our astral hounds of ray and bolt against the alien,
Cursing souls howling amid the coldest warp and voids
Now we’ve no taste for wine and song between our thousand deaths
To preserve our doomed empire, our sure ruin, our fate of foul returns,
Gas and slimes, time and flame, this electric crown, these robes ultraviolet
Sparking, flickering on our hard-won seat of char and woe-scarred space
While he went on to Nirvana, chuckling at all our petty ambitions.