And then, another flutter in the night sky/
Another coy creak, a shamed moon tiptoes by/
Another purple tangent creates impregnable, dreamy geometry in my window pane/
Another second of loneliness salvaged, and this day shall not end with a sigh.
A little star, blinking, battle-weary on the azure threshold/
Another little wish to keep it company, in that lonely cold/
A little droplet of a dream, spinning around it fretful figurines of frigid symmetry/
As this numb mind watches and learns of those stars that destiny once foretold.
It shall be a dark city outside my window before tomorrow’s light/
It is a dark city outside my window, and its darker than tonight/
And as those small balls of fire lacerate into the glassy fabric of the opal sky/
These eyes are not roused to joy, nor excited to fancied, frenzied delight.
And yet black moors in their vigilant quest, cross stretches of burning sands/
And yet hope makes thousand wings cross oceans in search of promised lands/
And yet hope shall guide whisps of faith, lulling the now-sleepless eye/
Saying, maybe there’s love for me yet, and this day shall not end with a sigh.
would like to be under your tutelage to feel poetry.
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