O come, ye stars—
is night kinder to the sleepless,
or only deeper still?
Can one unfreeze time
when life unravels in a flash,
and you slip
into the far-off lights?
How strange it is to yearn no more
after a lifetime of yearning—
longing, worn thin by a warmth
no one could replace,
falls away in stardust.
Life, O life—
how strange it is to be
no longer what we once were,
to turn to you
with lessons I could only learn
with you gone—
and here I am,
whispering them softly to you
as I gaze upon the distant stars.
