As hopeless as the moon is bright,
when not amongst the stars at night,
woeful as a day half gone—
halfway through her lonely song.
Solemn as the ocean deep—
amongst mere men at night like sheep,
a dying man is forgotten, cold;
that he was dying—no one told.
Amongst these men, these kings,
these queens—
we dance like things on puppet strings.
On a still sea falls the rain,
the drops of blue mystique—
fall softly onto Earth’s soft face,
into the Earth’s small creeks.
From the sky fall fireflies,
drop by drop into the sea—
reflected in pale midnight eyes,
drop by drop—infinity.
