Easy to construct a pattern from stars,
as for conspiracies to clot the mind
with their inarticulate minutia.
When confronted with the nascent red surge
and pulse of the chaotic universe,
Greek caves are an ideal place to cower,
a safer space to redefine our walls
in a slightly shifted iteration
of a tale we tell to become ourselves.
It does not matter if we have been wrong.
It does not matter so long as the song
can intercede against night’s denouements,
and the stars rewoven with broken string,
puppets to our constellated desires.
(June 9, 2016)
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