Let’s not think about how impermanent things are
How nerve-wracking and precarious, how bizarre
That a star with its silent bright glow
Doesn’t burn now, but burnt years ago
What’s behind that starshine for all we know
Maybe just the blackened mass of a stone-dead star.
Even the simplest moment is wrought so complex.
Living starpoints in my eyes, but up in space the wrecks,
The parts and dust of bodies that shone once
With a silent and a complicated radiance.
The light that takes an age to bridge this distance
And in so doing loses it source, which dies or disconnects.
If you insist I’ll reluctantly fall into that spiral.
Lead my thoughts that way, forget about keeping it simple
Lead my thoughts that way, forget about keeping it simple
I’ll try and remember the lights that I see
A million stars in the sky, a lamp lit for Diwali
Most far beyond my grasp, wherever they may be.
Each beam lives while the source may be dead. Each one a miracle.
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