Tens of millions, like each star in the sky,
were the blades of grass that swayed the valley
like a wave in a storm thrashing side to side
buffeted along by this ennui-draped gale.

A far-drawn wind that I know all to well
fluttering, fluttering. Given up only in part.
I've spent every sad song for Summer's farewell
so Autumn may come and stab deep into my heart.

My eyes rested on the dew while waiting for sunrise
as if some sort of light or warmth could rip me
from these tightening and tightening thorn-ridden vines,
as if respite would make up for a heart sunk at sea.

But for every constellation that faded from the night
I saw through mountain jaws into brightest light.