Dear Heavens

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.

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