Glittering Prize

Came across something I wrote when I was like 15:

Northern Lights

what lays here?

this fading pigment

of what once was

beautiful, unmistakable.

trapped in a twilight,

decaying in a lonely place,

pain in her last embrace.

we are as invincible as we think,

they never spoke of lies,

we’re never entirely broken.

nothing is born and nothing dies.

her essence bursting through

this atmosphere were cornered by,

traveling far over there,

each principle deeply defied.

the part that cannot be seen,

what we all deny as ethereal,

something greater than material.

My spiritual agnosticism never really changed much.