Human

the thought of the sun

after light

unfaithfully

not setting alike

holding on

temperate sail

through the nautical night

candle tall

to the darkness of absence

up

whether or not

the lunar cast in between

should once more

unfast its grip

on today,

for tomorrow,

the frozen shape,

the unmoored sky...

this Thought –

fateful

ungainly

like

an

equator of the equator –

must

not

be

counted

for a lie;

burns

an uneclipsable fire,

burns

like

a human Star.