Thursday, February 26, 2015

(VIII) Shooting St(on)ar(e)s

If every pebble was a planet
And every stone a star

Would you then take these things for granted?
Would you watch them from afar?
Or collect them in a jar?
Would we feel less infinitesimal?
Or like the dark at all?
For now I think
I prefer to wish on
Shooting stones

At least I know
Where they go

So I know where to find them
When I grow old

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