Do we live,
under the moon, and not the stars?
Balsamic shadow in
but the shadow of day.
Let there be light,
but let darkness guide us
to where paper and peace began.
Why not,
under the stars?
Mirrors of light,
which hushes along the ash tray
with our Father's cigars.
We do not burn,
to touch a star.
To not dare strike our tuning forks against
a lullaby.
If we could touch a star,
we would surely die
of hydrogen, and hydrogen a lone.
-Iliana Hagenah
.jpg)
