stars with a dead tongue
they do not
know the darkness.
how the light can fade
into coptic
and all conclusions
drawn unreasonable.
pale words cave,
ave surprises carved
in stone from hollow stems
no longer native,
motionless as time
caught in dry gases
of exhausted stars.
today I write
with inspiration—
careful to dream
on a cusp of night,
knowing that all stars
are not the same
and never so far away.
bydk 02/24/20
the tongue is dead
dead the brain that understands
I live the heart that loves
I live the being that understands
Thank you @Lenna. I’m truly honoured
@claradavaliente
What a lovely poem (and such is too CDV’s echo to it).
Here is to people who grasp infinity (and are not at all worried about what can’t possibly stand in-between):
https://uploads.disquscdn.com/images/8bfa630242ad502c839b1a6a0b4ef6d8ac728e2de540d971e99b1058ee314d0d.jpg https://uploads.disquscdn.com/images/0feb58b6fab1ee480ad857f2b7b54592c164c00deaf31abded094a05e2802f95.jpg