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Sunday, March 24, 2024

The Sky at Night

The Sky at Night

At best 
A comfortable bed leads to
Thinking of a thousand questions
For whomever lives on a planet
Revolving around that star
Stared at for hours
Laying on the grass
Of a small observatory

At its worst
A religion is formed
After which the spreading
Of an insipid pile of mental dung
To the tribe in surrounding tents
Builds a worldwide following
Each tribe changes the story
To suit their own creation

Every question founded
Forces another question
To the surface of this puddle
The answer is the same
Absurdity prevails as paddling
Pushes every thought
Farther from the edge
Of a home that's warm and simple

Even these words have changed
From the first inspiration
That created the dawn
That breaks sleep upon this grass
The door opens the car starts
As the highway to a temporary home
Clicks with a familiar tone
Adding music to confusion

Barry G. Wick

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