Your ghost whispers
through the bars:
Hush
as I contemplate
the mortality of stars,
compare it to my own.
Hush, yes, child,
I agree.
Demand the end
of speculation
better left alone.
These flights of semblance
steal breath and dreaming
while slipping past
this prison stone.
The clever thieves,
I could give chase.
But you say:
Hush, my father.
Let them go.
Yes, child, ghost,
The night is partisan, I know.
Let the stars weep for themselves
and I will hush.
Better I should let them go.
(c)Michael Stephens
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