Beneath the Starlit Night

What is the point of life? I often ponder.

To trudge this vapid road of toil and task?

The sages spent their lives in hopeless wonder,

Perhaps the wise are those who do not ask.


As shooting stars impaled the nightly splendor

Like fleeting years against this fragile life,

The darkness gently whispered to surrender,

to cast aside desire, fear and strife.


Into that endless depth beyond the gloaming

upon the lofty stars I set my gaze,

and with the wind my mind was free and roaming

to dive into that ancient starlit maze. 


What is the sacred fabric of existence?

What lies behind this wretched plight of man?

The questions of perennial persistence

Had drowned me in their oceans once again.


Then suddenly the heavens had awoken,

As if their secrets ready to lay bare,

Somewhere beyond the universe had spoken,

But all I heard were leaves through midnight air.


With morning’s light will come the sweet illusion

That all before our eyes is known and clear,

But like the day is stalked by night’s seclusion

Life’s riddles will remain forever near.


The fading night said everything worth knowing-

That planets, stars and moons must someday die,

But for today the world shall keep on going,

And if it’s going still then so must I.

gene16180

My muse can be unseemly and nomadic although she fancies meter and good rhyme, her diligence and output are sporadic, and some may say she’s moving past her prime. At times she’s off consorting with the sages reflecting on existence, as it were, At...

More about me