Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Steve Deutsch

nasa-89127-unsplash

What
are we
if not
a mix
of stardust
and desire?
A shell
that screams
I want
across the wanton
landscape

Those
of us
not saintly
or demonic
may
temper
ache
with
kindness,
a balm
of sorts
for the
relentless
longing

And for
the evil
we do
in our
own
interest,
we have
no better
recourse
than to
beg
forgiveness
from
the night
sky—
all
aglow
in
majestic
indifference.

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