neopulsar

with purpose bared to violent light,
our better selves are torn

and in the rudderless squares we've fitted
over heartspaces empty
the stars revolve in afterimage trails
winding a tapestry of historical events,
a roadmap to the center of all things

one day, perhaps
we will go like new children, with our eyes starved
for every particle

into the faint helices of long gone orbiters

into the lost unknown