No cake, this time, for us.
A broken fifth sounds hollow, but right;
My company this sedative night –
A cold bright beam, gives off no musk.
Perhaps the climate is to blame,
(surely, feelings can’t be lame)
Or else, the stars.
You know – they fall in heaps these days
And no one ever bothers.
Just now I’ve come to think –
The peaceful sight of constellations
Was there to teach us stargazing, contemplation
And not to walk the brink.
To think otherwise would be a lie
We who’ve never been to stars up high
Have saved ourselves a lot of empty falling.
As for others, it only means, this August,
there’ll be no restless groping,
no waiting for a streak of burning spark.