Their Brilliant Little Star

A

Brilliant Little Star on a

Clear-skied night;

Does it always have to be this way?

Everybody thinks it must take a

Fortune to

Give a little everyday and to not pay

Heed to the sun.

I think it is

Just a fact of life. My life.

Key fragments that

Lean in and out of their collective memory.

My memory.

No, but I don’t remember too far back.

Of course, it has become a

Problem. But me alone, on a

Quiet night is

Redemption from all they have taken.

Serenity from the light.

Titillating gossip has always been my

Utopia. You know that.

Very much so, that I must

Wonder; will it start to become

Xanthic? Dreary? Regardless,

Yesterday’s dramas still turn into

Zealousness.