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shooting stars through us

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  • shooting stars through us



    watching them try to hold me up
    I was fastened to the clouds until
    it broke that I would ever report:
    and in the cold planetary light, mine
    wending in the astral light of the sky
    turned green in its streaks, feeling,
    breaking in a swerve to crack open light but--

    its path so short, O does it truly fall?
    falling and falling, or tumbling, or curving
    hitched to the wheelwell of the Zodiac?--
    is its impact so much like a death, just to drop,
    and then in love, whatever's inside combusts?
    maybe it's the silence that surrounds,
    and defeats the darkness with its opening jaws.

    maybe the reasons that light our sky like that
    have all been swallowed; all have been made
    by the same starlight eating everything else,
    and by its assimilation become the rest of the sky?--
    but that well upon which it curves, how fast!
    this is not even a star, but a fraction, unbroken,
    of my unwavering souls' desire to get out: to burn;

    to die in the dark night as this veritable light,
    winding around a common point, thrown from the horizon
    to be gathered by we who make wishes, and see them
    come true for us. allowing the truth, pain, back in.
    isn't that the truth of our biological psychology?--
    I see them and fall deeper in love with the sky.
    I see them, endless, and continually wonder, 'why'?

    Love. Is love just a light spinning between souls
    Belonging? Belonging to the light which makes the dark?
    Or does the dark hostaging make us all more real
    So we pine for the colors of the sky to fly through,
    To shoot forth, and to penetrate our mysterious?--
    Looking up, I watched as I had expected: the Star might
    not truly be a star at all, nor a satellite, but the infinite love of soul
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