Untitled

*

I, once gone by,
Carved my fortune in the sky
Before an ill-tasked dusk cast out
Its peaceful rejection.

Night blankets us
Like a soul’s endless winter drift,
Never far in leave and returning
In ever tighter and tighter yet
Wilting circles.

Darkness paeans to forget.
In this stillness only one star
Remains high: the memory of
Spring’s wakeful eye.

*

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