And all your shining days have come to this –
This midnight walk through shallow pools of dew.
And, though you much dislike to reminisce,
The burning stars are resolute you do;
For this is how it’s been each single time:
You’ve always scaled each second’s mountain peak.
And, though you sometimes weary of the climb,
There’s something in that, too, of which to speak.
And you’ll defy the first dictates of death
A hundred thousand million times and more,
And yet there’ll come a time when no new breath
Shall fill your lungs, and, falling on the floor,
You’ll lie among the dew’s translucent drops
Like one whose fitful fever simply stops.
Photo by Benjamin Voros on Unsplash
Cosmos
