I hear my name from the Black
can they hear me calling back?
Watching stars all through the night
saving up their endless light;—
catching wishes as they fall
(someone has to save them all)
and binding them up in books of air
for those that read and those who care.
I hear my name from the dark of space
stars made of silver brooches tied up in lace;
I listen and I write and I hope and wait
documenting in moonlight, servant of fate
writing in ink I made from tears
black as all the Sandmans fears
hearing the voices of those celestial maids
and never lonely, as their song never fades.