More stars than people! They play above our heads,
Comfortable in their skies, and seed and fall
Endlessly towards a future-perfect tense.
And we, we also, burn and beget upon our beds,
Uncomfortable with histories – whose more than tall
Ghosts, charge us with their atavistic rents-.
And yet, this sufficient world where lying people
Perform ever the cadences of truth;
In stellar violence with a seasonal theme –
The lively vaudeville, whose puerperal
Curtain-call will raise the roof,
To make theatre-space from a dream.
These events, coloured with blood, the red stars
We call our children – unimaginable the gain
For a universe whose epicentre
Is the whole in the heart – whose scars
Repair our loss, advertise our pain
And delineate the advent in adventure.
Always more life than death, where futurity
Demands an ever recurring series;
Wherein we place the possibility of what can be,
Before the NO, before the wait of eternity,
Before the strait-jacket of theories;
Made by man to comprehend the a + b –
-Of why there is something rather than nothing-