Ashes or Stars

By Dave Hite

Would you ever want to be ashes or stars?

To shine bright like cleansed diamonds,

or rust like burnt embers?

Would you choose to be among bright litters across the sky?

Or drift through dust and grime, trapped by the earth?

Is there even much of a debate?

Who doesn’t want to be akin to someone’s deepest dreams?

Stars are unreachable; unattainable.

They stand on the outskirts of our atmosphere,

posing like judges of humanity.

Their shine is a facade at midnight,

since at dawn, they decide to flee and hide.

They’re mammoths in the mind and spirit

and spur us on to greater heights.

But how high can we really go?

Is it reasonable to believe that there won’t be an obstacle

to slow our momentum?

Will we rocket into the Milky Way, free,

no brakes to slow our ascent into Heaven?

Ashes, on the other hand, hold all kinds of mortal fingerprints.

They meld into the ground at our feet, frosted or barren.

They trickle into the crevices of Hell,

only to be pushed back up through the cracks;

telling of heartache and venomous pain.

It’s easier to relate to the slate gray of ashes.

Their life cycle starts with the end of ours.

Distant cousins of an unknown mother,

both of us ingrained in fate, meant to traverse a sin-ridden world.

I can understand my dreams of ashes. 

The sullen landscape of restless migration

mirrors my own sense of self.

It may be unhealthy, but at least it is in my scope.

If I stray from safety, I’m certain I’ll only see familiarity.

Stars don’t conduct the same similarity.

I feel like I’m always reaching skyward,

never able to grasp something that might not even be mine.

One shimmers in virtual reality, full of stat charts and altitudinal maps.

Its appeal is only for artificial intelligence; 

fools who still believe they’re nuggets of gold.

The other is found in old bones and new graves.

They’re made from radiant fires or old souls.

Even young ones sometimes.

I know of some who have been stalked by their cold call.

Ashes will lure the necessary clarity out of us.

Stars will rip through us with a string and hold us up.

Either can break us.

Now that you take the gleam out of stars

and the tarnish from ashes, what will it be?

Ashes or Stars?

Harder question now…

Impossible, even…

Because now you have to ask yourself if the right answer,

a potential third fork in the road, is,

maybe both?

By Dave Hite