I toss a pebble into the sky,
watch the ripples shake the stars
like no scientist or spaceship ever could,
disrupting light that has
for centuries gone undisturbed:
some long since dead, some long since alive,
we just haven't gotten the message;
but we will.

Soon the pebble rests in the silt
of long-dead algae, a fresh body
in an old cemetery, and the waters
once again rest as smooth as the sky.
The moon looks so close, so
tempting in these stagnant heavens,
so I reach out and grab for it,
accomplishing nothing; after all,
the reflection of the moon in the water
is just a reflection.

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