Heaven's cup that overflows
Trickling light into yonder black
Traveling the universe
Until the seasons brought you back
To me,
Mine eyes to see
The warm and glowing sight;
The stars are all a'shine this Eve
Your visage, burning bright.
My eyes could ne'er tear away,
Though other bodies dance;
Captivated, I am paused-
Intrigued, I am entranced.
For Ive counted all the stars above,
All friends, I hold them dear;
But the silver light that doth delight
Only comes when you appear.
O Tiny little dipper,
Tipping streams that pour-
The heavens look so full tonight,
But I am counted yours.

I thought I saw Ursa Minor in Lampe Park last night,
but the trees blurred my vision to the point
where I couldn't tell whether it was a constellation
or a phallus ******* on a posy of roses.

Stars don't make sense.
If amateur philosophy has taught me anything,
it's that they can't be social constructs
or a figment of your imagination
because they exist.

They're dead,
but they exist.

and they'll be here
until all my jokes about cancer
or death in general
catches up to me.