At night, we are surrounded
by light chasing light.
The moon dances
above us in flawless grace,
drawn without
fail through the binge of stars.
Us?
We are not made
of star-stuff,
not of stone, not
of driving cosmic gears.
We are made soft
skin and whispers
and whims and
dreams that make no sense.
We chase each
other for a kiss
and that is
enough.
—Mitchell Hegman
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