Saturday, November 5, 2011

the distance of Proxima

Light years. From here. I see. Hope's ray.
I move. And kneel. And shoot. And miss.

Discern. Twin stars. One longs. For light.
That one. Who could. Renew. His sky.

But stays. On bends. And wears. Godot's.
To freeze. And dream. For one's. Reborn.

One star. Astray. From his. Reaching.
Still gleams. Nay far. Minute. But there.

But he. Defies. Eon's. Despair.
And pulls. The springs. And neaps. To sway.

And whence. I see. Crystal. Beckons.
Own light. Shutters. Cleaves me. To fall.

My self's. Distance. Stone's throw. Away.
Blinds me. And hope's. Star-crossed. In awe.

For I. Harks to. Gazers'. Prescience.
Of one. That will. Commence. New air.

Some say. A star. Out there. Exists.
Whose heat. Hits home. Hearts skip. A beat.

But Muse. Still weeps. The space. Deceits.
New star. Comes pale. Versing. A knell.

The bard's. Morose. Contents. Grieving.
And with. Dashed hopes. I hop. And hope.

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