no comfort in constellations

they’re cold and sparkly 
endlessly interesting but distant 
so abstract as to be everything -or dust

there are no answers there
just as there are none in clouds or leaves
-they all fall with time 

but who cares about time
in the moments of suffering
when no direction feels right 

the stars are a clock or a bear 
or little dream beacons 
disappearing from view in daylight

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