The More Loving One

December 26, 2014

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us, we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
– W.H. Auden

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Flying

December 19, 2014

Caught in between,
In between the infinity of sky

And the final certainty of the earth
Wonder if this is how Angels feel

Trapped between the immensity of God
And the tactile nature of men

Lost, where even birds are unseen
Lost where the sun performs its ritual

Of birth, life and violent death
And the black shore of the night

Is littered with itinerant stars
That blink in confusion of being

Neither, light nor dark,
I would not wish to be an angel.

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