A Conversation


is a ritual

The jovial expressions of people gathered to rejoice

Or in ceremony

Their bodies flailing in a rhythmic sway

To embody a voice

It’s all a ritual

Of celebration

Of appreciation

Of love

Or of mourning

Of wrath

Of time passing the sun,

For night

To morning

As I sit on the grass tonight I notice the stars


no shimmer

No waining glow

There is nothing they want to dance for

Not to protect us

Or to amaze us

Decorate our planet in jewels so rare

We can only reach them in sight

Make our pupils grow.

I couldn’t say why

If it’s because of my mind

The sands of time

Washing away

Lost in the absence of starry light

But at night, tonight

I asked the moon why

And the moon agreed saying

I’m not sure either , but only one thing can be told

“The sky full of stars seemed dead and cold;”


“A place once so magical hurt to behold.”

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