The night far gone, the stars decide to change.
Beyond my window, light-flies scintillate.
A death-tinged calm muffles to suffocate.
Each end-stopped point of fire moves in strange
Designs. There burns a flight of flame. A range
Of winds blow tingling, led by darkness’ weight.
Decide to change the stars—oh silver hate:
Those gods above repeal and rearrange.
The night far gone. The crickets dumbly screech.
And scintillating, light-flies eat the dark.
Beyond design these godless I beseech.
The night far gone. The stars are dressed in lead.
My window steers this ever-turning ark.
With me, the mind of stars goes slightly mad.