Twinkle, little star, twinkle
Ensconced in tender darkness,
Sit like truth, perfection unattainable,
Studded in the crown of constellations.
Through veiny boughs you come and go,
Like a beating heart— nothing, something, then altogether,
For a moment not caught even by a blink
You splay glory like an archaic crop-duster,
Experienced but a youthful glow
That splatters the ground unnoticed,
But for a fool on a park bench.
How I wonder what you are?
Through ascending branches do I see
A beacon of future or
The flickering harbinger of hope
Or a dreamer’s dream,
Pinning blindly the tail of desires
For certitude and assurance on an arbitrary glow?
Do you embody a swan song
That me to my destiny pulls
Or do you taunt with knowledge in celestial tune
I try but never hear?
Up above the world so high,
Vaunted stature, beauty personified.
Your siblings grow far into the good night
But you, stationary and stenciled remain
Between the curving pencils of arms 2 and 3,
Company for the knight who rests his arms
Under the tar-pit of the night.
I yearn to speak with thee
That who was, is and will be
Whence my footsteps have taken leave.
To talk of that which shall be
And allay fears of uncertainty.
Like a diamond in the sky….