A Poem Written 5-27-22
A mourning girl, a cunning grave
A hand reached out to Heaven
And closed only upon the air
Oh starry lights, long-lived, mortal
What do you have to teach her?
Will she become understandable?
Closed off by alien thoughts,
Made into a mystery,
Will she become immortal?
Are those distant lights a guide,
Or a temptation?
If she departs, will she then return?
Reaching up to the Divine,
Will the Divine reach back?
Will entwined hands spell out a new future?
On a precipice, in the borderlands
She raises herself up on her toes
And touches eternity
