Oh, such is the mystery…
This lunatic, this uranographer,
this mad mountebank,
set upon drawing the paths of stars,
set upon tracing the tiniest of lights,
up there, in the black depths of the sky,
has instead drawn my life.
I am now hanging between Alpheratz and Mirach,
in the constellation of the Princess,
Andromeda.
How fragile my string is.
A mere breath could send it swaying,
one light-year this way, one the other.
And to think of all those stellar winds,
blowing, howling.
Such is the mystery.
I am still there,
Watching you sleep.
Copyright © Vesper L. All rights reserved.
3 comments:
very clever use of words to explain such an abstract noun. i love it!
I am now hanging between Alpheratz and Mirach,
in the constellation of the Princess,
Andromeda.
How fragile my string is.
A mere breath could send it swaying,
one light-year this way, one the other.
And to think of all those stellar winds,
blowing, howling.
Fascinating imagery there, do keep it up. ^_^ Enjoyed reading your two other romantic poems as well.
Cheers.
Thank you so much, Canterbury Soul and _Soulless_. Encouragement, coming from people like you, who write such beautiful words, means a lot to me!
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