What the Starry Spaces Say

You’ll wake up each morning,
a hundred concerns upon you,
relishing what’s been given to you,
or rancour-ridden at what’s denied you.
The personal story shall engross you,
those times of winning or elation,
those times of losing or frustration.
You’re uncomfortable with a small,
unremarkable, unnoticed life.
You want the extraordinary, opt for
flaming flight, the pressure, struggle, strife.
You don’t want to be left in the dark.
You’ve big dreams and long to make a mark.
You can accept much unpleasantness,
restless nights, health compromised, stress,
contention, anxiety on the way
for the flaming fruition unfurling one day.
You’ll wake up embroiled in all these,
the attention and will steered away
from what the stars and starry spaces,
the velvet indigo seem to say:
the perceived extraordinary and small,
the strong and weak, skilled, unskilled one and all
are the same… The body’s burnt to ashes
or coffined by and by goes rotten
and all works fade away, names fall,
even a genius by and by forgotten.
Those spaces neither sympathize nor flatter:
human virtues as much as vice,
human actions in the end don’t matter.

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