I looked up into the night’s sky to derive meaning
I studied the constellations to divine any gleaning
They answered back in cold indifference
I was left an infinite cosmic vociferance
Nothing but my lung’s breath ascending before me
Vaporous fleeting in a prophetic and descending reverie
The dots of light in the sky hint of galaxies and worlds unknown
Each one more barren than the next- optimism lost its throne
What has become of this nous in my being?
The eye’s darkness is great indeed- unseeing
The stars speak to me in a language I knew from birth
The cursed speech of a slave-race chained to the earth
They tell me in all their celestial glory not to gaze on the cosmic seas
I could never dream in a billion lifetimes of being arrayed as one of these
O foolish man that I am searching for fiery hope in a tepid existence
Behold your futility as all life churns monotonously in bloody resistence
The stars speak
The stars speak
But do not seek
But do not seek
-CL Fuqua
