Eclipse

[ISawASpaceship]

A box with static
plays loudly.


Old and dusty,
the owner watches its screen,
trying to push a picture into view
but the box refuses
and continues to play static
as if to say
that it no longer wants to play
the things that the owner wants it to play.


The static shuffles itself about,
a sign that the box is shutting down,
refusing to function the way that it was intended to
and in the bright light of its glow
for a moment it hums a final note,
one that is sad, soft, and low
and a whisper makes its way into the room,
directed at another box
that is barely playing
outside of the house
and it breathes its final words aloud,
“This is what you've made me.”


The owner cries and leaves the room
having done
all that He can do
and the other box weeps, as well
and then begins to static.


It won't fade to black
like the other box had
but for a while it will stay near the tomb
that was the living room
and the momentary resting place
of his beloved,
while he sits underneath our Yggdrasil
beneath the blackened moon.