Inhale thick smoke in a pensive position
And gaze unabashedly at skies overhead, wondering
As I always do, without censor, at the origins
Some nights my view is clear, others it is foggy
And when it’s clear so much is explained, in that
Painstakingly instrusive manner the universe tends to have,
when you can see Mars at night.
And when it’s obscured by the arbitrary groupings of atmospheric condensaton
Which obstruct any attempt to gaze in wonder
I feel so much more alone.
And then, occasionally, you get lucky
On the nights where there’s both congestion and clarity, barricades and beauty
You get to stare at the questions and hear answers whispered low
But still retain the mysterious shroud of secrecy so easily maintained by our
Greatest foe and ally, smartest debater, vexing and hindering friend,
The godly ceiling of celestial spheres
Whose both dim and dazzling luminescence can
Guide or beguile, assist or deceive
Make you turn back, or make you believe
Trickery abundant, or avail unlimited
You can’t escape what you can’t perceive
An astral gift; both atlas and motif
Fodder for the mind, direction for the eyes
Telling you to look here, go there
Construct in your mind a solid determination
Or stumble through life with no delineation,
No direction of thought or foot,
No ideas or travels to be shared with your peers.
All of this, provided, free of charge
(Unless, as I do, you believe that thought is the currency of the universe)
By the force that is, and was, and will be
And created these things, and you, and me,
Name it not, nor worry for aught
For a comfortable end is promised thru the beauty of the stars,
within reach and in all our hearts’ desires.
