yet the stars will speak
our last will
and we shall be.
Leave—
their time sings
the absence of being here,
belonging to no one;
where we cannot be
unless you leave
all you’ve ever seen
or ever been.
It’s too late to fall
from the stars
to the ancient world.
From the ether, afar,
you will see two spirals collide,
dancing through endless eternities,
making new stars
in the briefness of time.
On Earth, there will be
constellations’s dreams
never grazing the real stars,
never knowing how to wake them.
Yet in the universe,
in all that we can create,
there are touches,
blows, and wounds;
but dreams lie elsewhere,
in a distant memory of the sea:
a story without a present.
That's why
you cannot write in the stars
without ever reaching them,
and that's why,
once you begin
to rise above every sea,
you must leave
the ancient time behind.
—It’s time
—today behind.