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To the Hopeless Astronomer
I don't mean to be
so elusive.
I just like to look at the stars,
and talk to the moon
and sometimes I forget that there is beauty here, too.
I don't mean to be
so cold-hearted.
You have become the hopeless astronomer,
chasing for answers;
looking for the light in the darkness.
Am I your distant galaxy
that tempts you, and
prompts you to build such telescopes?
Am I your dark matter
and dark energy;
do I amuse you and confuse you
All the same?
I don't mean to be.
I want to be rosy-cheeked
and pretty-
easy to understand.
I want to be more lovable;
be your nearest tree to provide
you shade,
not the most distant star.
I don't mean to be
so elusive.
I have loved you for so long.
It seems, however,
when I try to utter such words,
they get lost in the many, many
lightyears between my lips
And your ears.
I have hidden in this darkness,
this safe, and easy hiding place.
But I know I love you, dear, and I know why.
You are the one that makes me shine.
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