Down through these waning years
I have seen the nights;
Heavy-lidded and broken,
Weeping in those yellow dawns,
I have eaten stars.

Raised on milk of cosmic words,
Fed nebulae under skies of pink;
I have cried too many times,
Hysterical and drunk on salt.

And you dwindle now,
You flicker and dazzle
Like golden lamplight on the river,
And I have tasted endless seas;
My lips are dying from these breaking waves.
But my head is bobbing just above the surface,
And I am no longer eating stars.

The years now are waxing,
And the nights are shining short;
But I am still broken in the dark,
And those yellow dawns themselves are weeping
And choking on my stars.