Fresh faced and dewy eyed,
With sunlight on my tongue--
I was overly fascinated with death and
Now
I don't pose ambiguous questions because
I know
That the stars are really just pits of dust that used to be
Our flesh, our strength, the thoughts that came to us
In the middle of the night,
The things we touched and the people we saw.
Our souls, buried in the twilight of the
Living--
The night sky,
Our funeral pyre.