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In the chary depths of an Island of solace.

I wish to be an Island, lost far out at sea.

Swimming in solitude with no one to see.

I can’t echo thoughts etched upon scars

as darkness embraces a world full of stars.

I wish to be an Island, blind to their beauty

saved from the shadows cast by the beauties.

I can’t echo grace for you wont or you will

and if left unto me they’re all such a thrill.

I wish to be an Island, to which nothing compares

alone out at sea, so I cannot compare…

For grass that is softer, petals more scented

skies like the heavens and fantasies fated.

I wish to be an Island, lost far out at sea

a place in the silence where I cannot see.

 

Karen Hayward ©2017

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Do the stars watch us from above?

Do the stars, as they lay dying in the night skies, look straight into the heart of the universe? Do they spend the twilight hours counting the insomniacs, the broken and the bruised? Do they place empty wishes upon the souls that fly, do they weep stolen tears for the souls that cry? Do they have the perfect algorithm to tell them of human meteor showers that reign down burning flames of pain and destruction. Have they mapped our constellations can they tell me off my fate or do they watch tirelessly as we are consumed by hate. Do the stars know us by our names, or the colours of of our soul or are we just a number without a heavenly goal? Do they hear me as I whisper do they know my secret thoughts,  do they know the reason why my sleep is so very short? Do the stars simply love the glowing of the moon, do they, like us, lay there and swoon as she fills the nightly skies from night until goodbye. Do the stars look down into the universe a reflection in reverse, do they count up the all the souls and collect them in a purse ? Did the God of all creation decide in his elation, in the darkness of that station to give the stars, the very last of his impatience. Do they count us as we break, watch us whilst we wake…sitting in the darkness I wonder of this sight, is it the stars that keep me sane in the emptiness of the night?

Karen Hayward ©2016