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Stellar Musing

From behind the moon's harlequinade;
Your skin ornately prancing in the blear
Colder than the thin and flimsy mist,
Your face cradling an orchestra of smiles
Muffled in the fading mimicry of echoes,
Your abstraction realer than the dream
That you are when you were here.
From the protracted expanse and
The truant galloping instance, I probed
And groped for an orb of light to hold
Like a ballasting banister only to solder
My eager and supple hands, now aglow
Slowly crumbling from holding what it cannot.
And the Gods had judged the episodes
And written them on the stars, one for each,
Mine I cannot find, or perhaps, accept
Sensitive to fate and denial, I wiped
The wisps of silver light grazing the small
Contours of my face—happy and sad
From the corner of the room where the sun slept
Two thousand days, I muse amongst the stellar
Riveted, and with every violent breath of verve
A little death expires from the seething lungs
A little give and take, a juggling to compensate
The lackluster of kaleidoscope visions to crown
The poignant asunder of your galaxy and the stars

poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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