Truth

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.