I no longer adjust the luminous light  
 of the moon nor clean the suns rays  
 daily to dance off your hair.  
 The stars are no longer my duty to  
 pin to the nightshade for romantic  
 words or endeavors.  
 I stopped listening to prayed  
 vesper whispers of others in  
 need of love finding their hearts.
 The seven seas are no longer at  
 my command nor rise and fall to
 bathe you in nightly rituals.   
 I no longer try to save the world  
 from itself as it goes astray from  
 Its own reality.  
 I stopped long ago, from chasing  
 after unreachable dreams in the  
 outer cosmos.  
 To all things there is a limit, even  
 Those who once adorned a cape.  
 Now- I rejoin those waiting on  
 a miracle before my life is done.

 Like twilight, I’ve come to be  
 gone in the blink of… your eye.  
 Poet of the Light ©  2020

4 thoughts on “L’amature

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