Some rare nights
When I think of the world
The fabric of space and time
Just splits the swirly smog

It is for some seconds
Through the cloak of darkness
Before dawn
In the painted knit of jet black skies

I can see the diamonds of the night
Like people on empty streets
They are scattered
I wonder, lonely stones come from where

They seem to belong to me
No one shares the same stars as I (except a poet)
Yet, they choose to be in the coldest nights
When I think of your cold glare

Except, diamonds are forever
You're the scientist
Who taught me this
Through heartbreak

That a ball of gas
Which is million miles away
From our living world
Is already dead, is only alive as an afterimage

All we have is our love poetry
People are now eternally in the present
That is why some of us are poets
Because we live in the past like dying stars and write