The Astrologer and the Star

What is it that you think you know,
If you think that my heart still sings of you?
For when you know not the half of it,
You must have forgotten the laugh of it.
Now I am not in your eyes,
Fundamental becomes fiction,
And then why not?
For it is only in my blood
In my veins –  t’is mine.
When I say;
‘There is no Love but one Love,’
And so repeat after me,
“With all I am
All this is all,
I ever wish to be,
Happy with you may you be,
Happy with me,”
It’s so simple…
It’s too simple…
…too simple?
How is it that you think,
A star can burn for lightyears,
When we see it light mind in heart?
The memory of it’s yearning,
Does not burn this simply…
Rather it survives and like this,
Life does go on…
Oh how it does,
Go on and on and on.
When it ends,
Tis when it begins,
Becomes the same;
And only a game,
For the Astrologer,
But not for the Star.


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