Star

 When I sat quietly,

With tears rolling from my sky,

Down to my lips, where I drank them in,

Parched for years, sowing my songs

Burying my words in the wet soil.

For what good is it to know?

And what good is to show?

The vines will die in the scorching sun,

And the flowers rot in the endless snow.

The seasons will change, the moments

Tear into paper and fly away like pixels.

Everything is over, this is the end.

Everything is past, all life is death.

I looked up and saw its light, 

My very own Star of Bethlehem.

The panic subsided, my breath relaxed.

I took it as a good omen.

I looked to the East,

And waited for God himself to arrive.

The star continued to shine.

And all was calm.

And all was bright.