It seems the stars are singing
Or perhaps their screaming
And I'm just hopeful
That though
The night sky is burning
It's light
May be serenading us to sleep
But I doubt it
I guess that's the foolishness of poetry
Or perhaps it's the beauty
I always get the two mixed up
Ascribing autonomy
To distant things
And applying them to my life
My weak narrative
My minuscule perspective
So I guess it may be beauty to believe
That such magnificent things may exist
To give me a vocabulary to describe you