Before stars could write,
No light was ever born,
And when the stars wrote,
They kept themselves away,
And where the stars keep,
So long are those to dwell,
But once the stars are whole,
There’s little to be said;
Hence whole, they united,
Who touches the darkest sky,
Who bleeds for stars so still,
How bright and still remain,
At last to fall, last to fall,
A war be waged in them disperse,
A war they fought within,
And when the stars spoke silent,
Then only thunder ere flame brewed,
In many a shape and form,
Their song is many of the same,
A story from thus risen to fall,
And when the stars befell here,
This sun could but they to hide,
Hind the cloak of light they lay,
To give stars reason in knowing,
Their last was only their first,
Thus when the stars were past,
Their essence becomes the future,
At present, I can only wonder.

Mysterious, Nocturnal, Poetry, Works
, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
%d bloggers like this: